


Subtle Spell

by sleeepywrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aromantic Asexual Caduceus Clay, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Kid Fic, Medical Trauma, Mighty Nein as Family, Mollymauk Tealeaf Lives, Muteness, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Mollymauk Tealeaf, Protective Beauregard Lionett, Running Away, Sign Language, Team as Family, Team as Parents, The Nein are collectively parents of a small kiddo, What-If, everyone will probably have their canon relationships unless i decide otherwise, the Nein find a kid after they leave Zadash, the kid is everyone's narrative foil, which means lookout for beauyasha and fjester, you can pry my maladaptive daydreaming from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 94,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeepywrites/pseuds/sleeepywrites
Summary: As the Mighty Nein leave Zadash, traveling south to Nicodranas, they encounter a kid in the night. They're small, covered in twigs and leaves, and quiet. Very quiet. When they step forward into the light of the dwindling fire, the Nein realizes why. A terrible, deep gash is all that's left of the child's voice, tarnishing their bright future as a mage. Still recovering from leaving Kiri behind with the Schusters, the Nein decide to take this child with them, at least until they can find someone to care for them long-term.Rowan has other ideas, though, terrified by the stories that lead their family to robbing them of their own voice. In their own way, they try to prove themselves useful as the ninth member of the group. And, eventually, they figure out how.(A M9 rewrite featuring the classic 'Mollymauk Isn't Dead' and 'Team as Family' tropes... with a twist!)Currently at Ep.48, undergoing edits throughout
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Original Character(s), The Mighty Nein & The Mighty Nein
Comments: 25
Kudos: 148





	1. Found Family, in a Very Literal Sense

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a story that started as a NaNoWriMo project. It grew. 
> 
> In other news, do not feed stories caffeine late at night. Like tribbles they'll grow out of control. 
> 
> Starts out as a blow-by-blow rewrite, but evolves into more of a highlights reel post Chapter 15.

It was only the beginning of winter, and already the ground was covered by a thin layer of frost and snow. The pale, dead grass boasted crystals in the morning, ice forming fractals before the sun thawed them away. In certain corners, under the cover of a thick canopy, trees stood with snow piled up higher than the sun could reach. Clouds covered the sky above; the stars were shrouded in mystery, the moon a radius of silver light.

As the moon crested over the trees ahead, a kid made another scratch on their pack. Squinting in the darkness, they used a small blade to mar the leather surface of their bag. Beside it were tally marks from days gone by, marked out in a little row. It almost looked like a pattern now. The notches marched along the edge of the flap and crossed back. Each little group of ten gathered with a double line. There were quite a few of those tens, enough for a season’s worth of days. 

In their little hiding spot under a barren cherry tree, the kid pulled out the last of their food. They’d been careful, in the days prior, to eat only what they needed. The small chunk of stale bread and colorless cheese didn’t look appetizing, but they knew; they must eat. Food would no longer be easy pickings, things collected from the boughs of long-forgotten trees, or grabbed from roadside farms under the cover of darkness.

The small handful of food was not enough to satiate the gnawing feeling in the pit of their stomach, but it helped. They lay their head back against the bark of the tree and sighed. Five more minutes, and they’d be off. Their head swam; whether it was from lack of food, water, or from a fever, they had no skills to know.

It was too cold, now that autumn was turning cold all day round, to wait around for very long. The frost would grow over their fingers and toes. And every child from the North knew that spelled death. They’d feel the spider webs of frozen, lifelessness grow on their limbs, make them sleepy and warm, and kill them without wound or word. It would be a slow, terrifying death. They had heard the stories. 

So, they pressed on.

It took some effort to push themselves from their little nest of roots, but they managed to stand up and start making their way through the forest. Pulling their thin cloak around them, they marched forwards. With all the branches and leaves and needles above their head, they couldn’t exactly tell what direction they were moving. But raking their hands on a few trees, they found the lichen and moss. Those pointed north, towards the darkness. 

They needed to go south. If they went far enough, they’d leave the Dwendalian Empire and reach the Menagerie Coast. There… there they should be safe. Nobody would follow them there. It was too far, they thought, for someone to follow a child. Even one as dangerous as they were.

With each step they took, the kid carried themselves further from everything that they knew. Further away from the small town, full of people who knew them by name. It was a name they’d long given up. It was easier, than be reminded of their old family. Easier to give up the past. Easier than be found by them. 

Easier than remember what their parents had decided. What their parents had done to them. Even as a child no more than eight, all those years ago, they knew what their parents decided had been wrong. Inconceivable. 

Who would tear out their child’s voice?

Scratching the visible scar on their neck, they soldiered onward, and made their slow and meandering way. They didn’t walk along the path, but through the bushes and brush. It was denser here, in the underbrush. What with the leaves from the autumn and the banked piles of snow. It was safer, that way. The child kept an eye on the trail, keeping it within sight but far enough that they could hide. And, as of then, they hadn’t needed to deal with bears or wolves. Plus, it was a tiny bit warmer. There were no winds raging through the underbrush.

In the back of their mind, they knew that Zadash lay behind them. They’d passed through a few days previous, escaping the Crown’s Guard at the last minute, tearing through town on their weak and tired legs. The guards there didn’t like to see a small child hiding out, or picking their way through the market, or… well. Stealing food. That hadn’t lasted, in more ways than one.

Still, their pack had held a couple loaves of bread and a small bit of cheese they’d managed to sneak before running for their lives out of the town. The sound of armored feet chasing after them would ring in their ears for a while longer. Stealing wasn’t on their agenda, if they could help it. It would make life much harder if they were captured. 

They could be sent home, then. The soldiers were smart— adults with connections and resources and knowledge— and at some point, the kid knew, the guards would figure out where they were from. There were not many small towns bordering the old Zemnian Fields. Not many towns between Zadash and Deastock. There were not many towns whose populace whispered of the treachery of wizards, of the dangers a caster in the family would bring. Not many towns were fearful of arcane fire, not in the way theirs had been. 

Not many heard the rumors, of a Zemnian town burned down by three of its youngest wizard hopefuls.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, they reminded themselves; they were in the forests now. They were nowhere near that place. But they needed to go further. They trudged on, continuing to trade a known fear for an unknown one. It was their choice to leave home. And it was their choice to continue forwards. 

And at this point, they dared not turn back. The box in their pack, even with their voiceless breath, made it too dangerous to go home. They were no longer welcome. They had been found before, and if they stayed in one place for too long, they'd be found again. 

But in a few days they'd come across Alfield. A small town would be a better place— farmers liked to help little kids. They’d learned that growing up. They could work at the tavern, cleaning plates and washing floors, buy enough food to last them a week or two, and then continue to meander their way down south. 

A small dream lay on the edge of their consciousness, of seeing the ocean sparkling before them. Pushing sweaty hair from their head, they let the thought sink in. Better to think of that hopeful thing, and not of the places they’d left behind. It carried their feet with a renewed energy, lit their heart with a warm fire. They trekked on, trying to imagine the glimmering and glittering blue.

* * *

It was Caleb and Mollymauk’s turn for watch. The two sat up, staring at the darkened forest that surrounded them. The group knew the road cut through the forest in a snaking path, but it was better than going straight though the under brush. They had a cart, after all, and that cart was not meant for off-roading.

The group decided to camp in a small clearing a ways off from the road leading out of Zadash. The trees wove in a gentle arc around them, letting the group watch the stars whirl around their head before they all started to fall asleep. The next day, they reasoned as they looked at the map over dinner, they would enter Alfield. Jester was excited to see Bryce again, to ask after the town’s repairs, and to see if there were still gnolls raiding the area. 

Nott grew worried, that night, as the group continued south. She and Caleb had a long heart-to-heart near the treeline, discussing something between themselves. Molly glanced in Caleb’s direction as they stared out of the bubble, watching the wizard glare into the darkness. He seemed busy, thinking about something.

Molly, too, had contemplated their journey. Of the time Jester, Fjord, and Yasha had been taken from them. Of their fight to get them back. Narrowly escaping death, only for the dodecahedron’s Fragment and a lot of luck to pull him back to consciousness. And then the ordeal of getting the three of them back.

It was quiet, in the darkness. Molly kept an eye on the stars and moon above, relishing the moonbeams. There was something about coming back to life— with all his memories and feelings and self in tact— that made the night even more satisfying to enjoy. He wasn’t one to keep his worship of the Moonweaver a secret, but he also wasn’t one for conventional forms of worship. Yes, he sometimes prayed over his swords. And yes, he would call upon her protection in the dark. But he wouldn’t seek out a shrine, or converse with her like the others did. 

What was left of that night’s fire, crackling low and red behind him, blocked out some of the stars as the smoke wove through the cool air.

Caleb was more worried about the forest than the skies. Every rustle of leaves made the hairs on his arm stand on end. The summer months had quickly disappeared as the Mighty Nein made their way through the countryside. The road was muddy and tough, the pace of their horses and cart slow. Every whisper through the underbrush made his heart pick up in rhythm.

He was eyeing a small clump of trees when ice flowed through his stomach. There. There was no mistaking it. A figure, formless enough to be anything from a bear to a berserker, pushed their way through the bushes and low-hanging branches. The figure was quiet; he heard the rustling of leaves and branches and nothing more. Caleb reached out, patted Molly on his arm and put a finger to his lips. When he got the tiefling’s attention, he gestured to the figure, visible in the shifting moonlight. It was approaching.

Whispering, Molly asked, “Should we wake the others?” His red eyes lay trained on the figure, readying for a fight.

“I think it best,” he breathed back, leaning over and shaking Nott. Once again, he put a finger to his lips, pointed into the trees at the now close figure, and gestured to the others. At his side, Molly did the same, waking Yasha. She nodded, wordless, and grabbed the handle of her great sword, tensing to strike.

The figure wandered through the underbrush and reached the clearing. They did not seem to raise their head, nor pay careful attention to their surroundings. At this distance, it was obvious they were small. A halfling, perhaps, or a short human. Their clothes didn’t scream goblin, but it was still a possibility. Once the whole team was awake, they tensed for a fight.

It hadn’t been long since Lorenzo split their party in two. Jester and Fjord still hated small places. Yasha never talked about it, but there was a different hollowness to her eyes when she woke and saw the cart. It was natural that they were this tense.

Terrified and concerned, Caleb looked to Fjord. He nodded and stood. They all knew that he may appear weaponless, but his falchion was just a second away from summoning into his hand. “Stop,” he said, voice low and commanding.

The little figure froze. Wobbling legs and unsteady feet stumbled back, small hands coming up to grip their hood. They stayed silent, but started to move back with weary strides.

Fjord took a step forward, lit by the coals and embers of the fire, and said, “We mean no harm, unless you mean us harm. Please, remove your hood, so we can talk.”

The figure shook their head, violently, the hood slinging back and forth over their face. The Nein tensed. Except for Caduceus, who seemed a bit nonplussed at their attitude. Granted, though, the group believed him to be utterly unflappable, so that could be nothing. Yet it was odd, to see someone so silent, when just a few words would solve a great deal. Cautious, Jester stood up, a hand on the hilt of her ax. So, too, did Beau; she wrapped the knuckles of her hands in a length of fabric. 

When the small person took a couple, stumbling steps back, Fjord commanded, “It is unwise to run— and unwise to fight. Don’t move.” When they shook their head, holding hands out in front of him, he grumbled, “Who are you? Explain yourself, so we may all be on our way.”

A hand disappeared into their hood. The party tensed as it pointed at the figure’s neck. “What does that mean?” Beau asked.

Caduceus cleared his throat and asked, “Can you explain it to us in a different way?” The group blinked at him, wondering how he kept his head. Granted, though, Caduceus had not been around for the near death of Molly, had not been there when Lorenzo had taken half their members. He was unaware of their worst nightmares. And perhaps that was a good thing.

They pointed again, and then shook their head. Jester seemed to get it. She pointed at her own throat as she said, “Can you, like, not talk?” They nodded. “That’s, like, the worst!”

“And how do we know,” Caleb said, hand tensing around his spell book, “that you are not lying?”

“I think we should just all take a deep breath,” Caduceus muttered, hands ready to appease tempers. 

They could all see the figure take a deep, stuttering breath in. Then, with trembling hands, they pushed the hood back from their face.

There were three things the group noticed. It was obvious, then, that the figure was only small because it was a child, no more than twelve. Their hair was unkempt and long, twisted into the semblance of a braid at nape of their neck. There were scratches on their dark skin. And they were thin. So very thin.

Second, was the fear in their eyes. Yasha dropped her great sword back onto her bedroll, and slapped Molly’s scimitars from his hands. With a quiet, sobbing noise, Jester let her hand drop loose at her side. Even Beau relaxed, standing loose and tired. In the light, it was difficult to tell the color of their irises, but Beau guessed that they were a greenish color: bright, inquisitive, watching the group for any sign that they should run.

The last thing the group noticed was the scar on their neck. It wasn't easy to see but it was visible; there was just enough light to reflect off the scarred tissue. It was a light, near-white gash that stretched, starting near one ear and disappearing past the collar of their cloak. It looked nasty; it wasn’t just a straight line. Nor was it thin. It crawled, spidering and uneven, down their neck. When they moved their neck to look at the entire group, parts of it pulled. 

It looked painful. Caleb itched the wrappings on his forearms as he watched their wandering, uncomfortable eyes. 

“Alright.” Fjord deflated, sighing. He sat down, resting his head in his hand for a moment, thinking. “We’re sorry. Please don’t run, we mean you no harm. Truly, we don’t.” The kid nodded at him, their tan hands worrying at the hem of their cloak.

When he stayed silent for too long, though and Jester quietly asked, “Are you hungry?” She reached down and rummaged in her pack, producing a flattened, old pastry. “It’s super tasty. And, like, sweet. It’s apple flavored,” she added, holding it out. “Apples are in season, so they’re super good.”

The child looked at the food in her hand, a hand grasping their cloak above their stomach. It gurgled and rumbled audibly. Yasha grunted, flung her pack open, and produced some real food— travel rations, but hearty stuffs. She put a couple pieces of jerky, a roll of brown bread, and some cheese into a wooden bowl and stood up. Passing by Jester, she let the tiefling drop the pastry in. Without another word, she walked towards the kid.

They froze, tensing up and stepping back. She slowed at that, but placed the bowl onto the grassy ground of the clearing. Standing by it for a second, the two locked eyes. Then she turned and found her place back at the darkening fireside.

Molly sat down, curling his legs underneath him. “Go on,” he said, gesturing to the food she’d proffered. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone more in need of some food in a long while.” He looked at the group. They weren’t exactly the most… wealthy group. But they had a bit to spare. And whenever he had a bit to spare, it was his gods-given duty to give it to anyone who might need it. It made him happy. 

Stunned was the best description for the kid. They inched forward, a single step at a time. When they reached the bowl, they crouched with such slow movements it seemed rehearsed. With a hand on their pack, they reached for the bread and took a bite out of it.

“Well,” Fjord sighed, “since you aren’t one to talk about yourself,” he winked at the kid, who seemed utterly confused by the gesture, “maybe we can ask you some questions? Just shake your head or gesture. We’ll figure it out.”

“Eventually,” Beau grumbled. She caught the look Fjord shot at her, and seemed a bit mollified by Jester’s puppy-dog eyes. 

“How long have you been on your own?” Nott asked, fiddling with the mask hanging in front of her. There wasn’t a point, now that the kid had seen her true self, to hide behind it. She doubted they would judge. “Not for very long?”

The kid rolled a piece of jerky in their hands and held up three fingers. “Three days?” Jester asked. 

“Three weeks,” Molly guessed. The kid gestured for something much, much bigger.

“Three months?” He saw their wobbling hand and added, “Give or take.”

“Do you know where you are?” Caduceus asked. The kid shook their head and gestured rolling something and opening it. “Do you want to see a map?” They nodded, chewing on the last piece of jerky.

Yasha sat down next to them, plopping some more food into the bowl as the group watched Fjord pull the map out of his pack. “It’s the first of Cuersaar right now,” he intoned as he pulled and unfurled the parchment from his pack. Laying it on the ground, he cursed. “Dammit. We’ve got no light.”

“Ah. That is… here.” Caleb snapped, and Dancing Lights spun round the group, a couple hovering just above the corners of the map. “Now we can all see.” The kid’s eyes widened, staring, transfixed by his hands and words. Caleb directed a couple of the balls to hover above the map. In the beat of silence, the kid did not take their eyes from him. He’s Zemnian, they thought, remembering the voices of merchants who passed through their little town. He would know.

With a half-frown, Fjord chuckled. “Right. Magic. So yesterday we left from here,” he pointed at Zadash, and then traced a finger down the road. “We should hit Alfield by tomorrow. So, we’re somewhere in the middle, but closer to this little dot.”

“Do you know where you come from, little one?” Molly asked, practically sitting atop Yasha as he lounged next to her. “Are you from around here?”

The kid made no motion to answer that. Instead, their eyes stared at the map as they shook their head. “Is it not on the map?” Nott asked, tip-toeing to look over Fjord’s shoulder. When the kid shook their head, she grumbled, “Shitty map we’ve got then.”

“Or it is a small town,” Yasha added.

Jester looked at the kid in the light of Caleb’s magic. Their hair was pitch black, but sometimes looked a bit brown. Their eyes were a clear turquoise color, contrasting their dirty skin. “You’re tan, under that dirt, right?” Jester leaned in closer to them, her sketchbook in hand. The kid paused, and nodded. “And not, like, from being out in the sun all the time?”

“Are you tan like me?” Beau asked, sticking an arm out. The kid blinked for a moment, and then stuck their arm out. “No. That’s… see all you’re showing me is your coat and— here, lemme just—” and she pulled the hem of their coat up to reveal tanned skin covered in a layer of dirt and scratches. A leaf fluttered to the ground.

“You need a bath.” Jester decided, standing up. “Like, you’re almost as dirty as Caleb, and he’s a stinky wizard.” She made the word ‘stinky’ bounce, as though it were a compliment instead of an insult. The kid looked between the two. The red-headed man didn’t seem angry at it. He seemed almost to accept it.

They pulled their arm back and covered it up, shivering, but made a wiggling motion with their fingers. Then, they pointed excitedly at Caleb, then to themselves. “Hm? What about me?” He looked at them as they tried to make a few gestures, but nothing stuck. It was the first time the Nein saw the kid’s mouth moving to emulate speech. “I… I am sorry; I do not understand.”

At that, they seemed a bit crestfallen, and stopped gesturing.

“Let’s stoke the fire, a bit, if we’re all going to chat for an hour or so.” Caduceus stood up and pushed a log onto the fire. “A bit of warmth and something bright wouldn’t be amiss.”

“I agree.” Fjord stood up and moved towards the forest, picking up some branches and leaves to help as kindling while the others began to stoke the fire. 

Nott and Molly continued their questions, though. The kid seemed at a loss to explain some things.“So, what’s your name?” Nott asked, and was met with a look of frustration— but they were answering most of the Nein's questions. 

“Where are you going?” Yasha asked, pointing back at the map. The kid leaned forwards again and traced their finger down south. The path seemed aimless, though, since it never ended at a town. 

Brightening up, Molly cheered. “Well, then Lady Luck is on our side. We’re headed southwards, too, towards Port Damali and Nicodranas.” Their eyes opened up more, the fire catching the blue of their eyes and making it sparkle. “Ah, I see you’re as curious as I! Our lovely, wonderful trickster of a cleric hails from Nicodranas. Fjord, too, comes from the Menagerie Coast.”

“I do!” Jester bounced towards the kid and started to explain what she remembered of her childhood. Of the sparkling ocean that surrounded the town. Of the colorful buildings and beautiful tiled roofs. Of the birds that flew in from the waters and called overhead at all hours of the day and night. Fjord, too, added in, talking of the seas he’d voyaged across. 

The kid was hooked. They pointed to the ocean, to the group in general, and then back at themselves. “I mean…” Beau coughed into her hand, looking at the others. “We did take Kiri to a new city.”

“Kiri had no family,” Jester whined.

Caleb nodded, and Nott added, turning towards the kid, “Her family had left her. Do you know where your family is, kid?” They looked away, pointedly not in the direction of the Empire. They just traced their finger back to the Menagerie Coast, and gestured with more force at the group. Then pointed at themselves with an urgency that was covering for something. Though none of the Nein knew quite what.

“Guess you’ve got family like mine,” Beau said. “I don’t mind. Kid’s quieter than Kiri was. Won't spill any secrets or anything. We can take ‘em with us.” She shrugged, pulling her blankets back open and flopping down on her pack. “When we’re there, we can talk to Jester’s mom. She’d probably know a good place to take them.”

The kid looked excited, eyes darting between Jester, Fjord, and Beau. Before their chest, they clasped their hands together and gave their best puppy-dog eyes: eyebrows arched, lip pouted, posture cute and innocent. “I agree!” Nott said, transfixed. Most of the others just nodded and agreed.

To the group’s surprise, Yasha was one of the more vocal members. “Someone needs to protect them. It’ll be safer in a group. They should cross the border with us and not alone.”

“I don’t see why not! We’re just adding a new friend to the mix. Welcome to the squad, darling.” Molly grinned, throwing his arm around Yasha. “Just a quick question, kiddo. You’ve been gone for two whole months, and you’ve only worn this?” He picked at the hem of their tunic, looking at the weave. “It looks like it’ll fall apart!”

Bouncing to her feet, Jester called, “I’ve got a really cool dress and some pretty shirts… and maybe a sweater in my pack!” Jester dug into her bag, pulling out items. The fabric floated through the air as she all but tossed the contents of her bag onto the ground. Most of her items seemed way too big for a kid their size. Molly pushed the pile of items back at Jester, and retrieved an extra scarf to wrap around the kid’s neck for the time being.

“There. Keeps you warm and looks nice!” The kid relished in the feeling of it for a few seconds, letting their hands trace the knitted pattern on the yarn. Looking up and blinking back tears, they pointed to the scarf and then to Caleb. “Yes! Our stinky wizard also wears one.” 

They kid nodded, and made the wiggling-finger gesture at Caleb again. “I… am not good with gestures,” he admitted, sitting on his haunches by the fire. He wove his hands through the air and set the fire alight with a Fire Bolt, feeling the heat begin to radiate from the damp, but dead, leaves. The child redoubled their efforts, making the same gesture as Caleb just did. “Fire Bolt?” He asked, “The spell?” They shook their head, and gestured for something bigger. “Fire Ball?”

“No. I think they mean magic,” Beau called. “Big like general.” When the others blinked at her, she clarified: “Big picture.” Everyone nodded in understanding.

“Can you do magic, kiddy?” Jester asked. Their face now lit by the fire, the group could see that they were holding back when they just shook their head and stared into the fire. As their body disappeared into itself, their hands seemed to disappear into the scarf, hiding somewhere under their cloak. Their hands held up a 3, and then stretched quite long. When the group repeated back the right answer— three years— they curled up. They weren’t answering, not any longer. It went quiet, for a while, as the others tucked into their packs. For a while it was silent; the sounds of the forest grew loud in the stillness.

And then Molly smirked. “I thought you said ‘Kiri,’” he said, leaning towards the fire as he looked at Jester.

She shook her head. “No. But I miss Kiri.” Poking the fire with a stick at her side, Jester frowned, her lip sticking out as she pouted. 

“We just said goodbye the other day,” Fjord reminded her. 

“I know!” Jester pouted, pulling her blanket around herself. “But I can still miss her.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Molly said. He looked to the kid, and added, “Of course, you haven’t met Kiri! She was the cutest little Kenku. Sweet voice, kept parroting back everything we sad.”

“She wasn’t a parrot!”

“It’s a figure of speech, Jester,” Beau chuckled. “Yeah, she was cute. It was fun to see her talk like Jester, and then like Fjord.” The kid cocked their head to the side, watching her. “Uh, well, Kenku were like, cursed or something, and they can’t speak their own words.”

Molly nodded, adding, “So instead, they repeat the sounds and words they hear.”

Quietly, from the other side of the fire, Caleb piped up in a voice quite like Kiri’s imitations of Jester, “Go fuck yourself! Bird-eyed Fjord. Welcome to the Mighty Nein!” They weren’t good, but it made the group chuckle, and the kid smile a bit.

“Hey! We are nine, now. Nine neins?” Nott pointed to the group, counting.

“Guess we are.” Fjord turned to the kid and smiled. “Welcome to the Mighty Nein.”

The kid took their hands out from under their coat, and wiggled them in the air. 

“What’s that?” Beau asked, yawning. “Happiness?” The kid shook their head and made a different sign. “So what’s the wiggly palms, then?” The kid paused, and shrugged. Beau signed back at them— and, before she rolled over to sleep, mumbled, “Yeah, we’re glad you’re here, too.”


	2. Alfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's happening. It's really happening. 
> 
> The first day traveling with the Mighty Nein.

Yasha and Nott poked the Nein awake the next morning. The resident rogue smiled to herself, looking at the kid knocked out cold, now squished between Caduceus and Jester. At some point, she’d rolled over and snuggled close, and he’d done the same. It was cute; a cleric sandwich. Nott wished there were a way to save a memory, or something. It would be great blackmail later, when she and Jester were arguing about a detective case.

The kid woke when Yasha prodded their shoulder, their hood fluffing their hair as it fell from their head. In the morning light their eyes blinked, sand bits of sleep stuck at the corners. When he woke and stared at the world, Caduceus passed them a piece of bread and some dried mushrooms. Without thinking, they started to nibble away at the food. The others discussed the plan— another day hoping for calm travel and a warmer sun— while the kid watched with lidded eyes.

It took a while for them to fully wake up. As the driver of the group’s cart, Caduceus had patted the seat next to him and told them to hop on. For all of ten minutes, they sat upright and awake. But then their head lolled to the side as the cart rattled on. Once the sun had risen enough to shine right in their eyes, they started to react to the world around them.

It was a beautiful, fall day.

The forests surrounding the Mighty Nein were slowly turning from pines and conifers into deciduous trees, with rounded leaves still hanging on in the autumn air. The colors brightened as the sun climbed its way in the sky. So, too, did the kid. As Yasha started to pick through the grass growing beside the road, looking for wildflowers, the kid hopped off the cart and wandered towards her. “Ah.” Yasha caught their eye as she plucked a small, blue flower.

She held the star-shaped flower out to the kid. “It’s a willow gentian.” She held it towards the kid, who took it in their hand. They turned it over in their palm, studying the flower.

“She collects them, you know,” Molly mentioned, sidling past the pair to drape his arm over Yasha’s shoulder. “They’re all pressed into a book.” When the kid made an inquisitive expression, he shrugged. “Why do you collect them?”

“I think they’re beautiful,” she put, simply.

For a moment, Rowan contemplated something. It’s a place to start. The kid dropped the flower back into Yasha’s hands and darted off, looking at the underbrush. They ran ahead of the group, and started to scour the edge of the treeline in search of— presumably— more flowers. 

“There should be some winter heath growing near the pines,” Caduceus called out, a wide smile across his face as he watched the kid light up and start crashing through the underbrush. This was good. 

“Careful!” Nott called, looking through the broken branches at the kid’s disappearing figure. Their hooded figure started to blend in with the forest and trees around them. Even with her keen, yellow eyes, it grew difficult to see where they were. “Keep up with the cart!” She huffed, looking around. “Is it safe?”

“They’ve been on their own for months, and haven’t died yet.” Caduceus shrugged.

With a nod, Caleb added, “They seem intelligent enough to handle themselves.” But as Nott glared at him— without words the two argued, and she won— he let out an exaggerated sigh. Snapping Frumpkin into existence, he picked up his familiar by the scruff of its neck and stared right into its eyes. “Keep an eye on them, _katze_ , but stay close enough.”

The fae cat meowed.

“Ja, you’re a good boy.” Crouching to the ground, he released Frumpkin, who dashed off into the woods. Caleb then wandered towards Beau, who was talking with Fjord, and clapped her on the shoulder. “Do not walk me into a tree,” he mumbled, as his vision went blank and he projected his consciousness through Frumpkin’s eyes.

“Shit! Give me some warning, here.” Startled, she watched as the blue of Caleb’s eyes turned a bit icy, a layer of grey and white flitting over his irises. “Shit’s creepy.” Patting the hand on her shoulder to reassure the wizard, she kept going. 

“He did,” Fjord pointed out, watching as Caleb continued to walk forwards at a steady pace while in Frumpkin. “I’ll never know how he can do that.”

With a proud smile, Nott said, “He’s a smart boy.”

“It is a neat trick.” Caduceus watched the forest too, the horses walking along the road without his input. A moment of quietness passed, and he looked to Yasha. “Do they remind you of someone?” He asked, his firbolg ears pricking forwards as he waited for a response. “You don’t seem the type to warm up to people so readily.”

She shrugged. “I do not know. As a child, I, too, had to survive on my own.”

“Perhaps you see a part of yourself in them,” Molly guessed, hopping up to kiss her temple. “They’re lucky to have your care.” She shrugged at that, but kept an eye on Frumpkin through the bushes. It took five more minutes before the kid pushed a few branches aside, a whole bunch of wildflowers clutched in a scratched hand. They beamed— pleased with their spoils. 

* * *

Alfield greeted the party at the end of the afternoon, the colorful forest giving way to the farmland that surrounded the area. The kid watched from the back of the cart as people meandered through their rough fields, some of the houses still covered in soot. Their eyes picked out the burnt remains of a great oak tree, one that would’ve towered above the small houses. A large building, in the process of finishing the first floor, stood surrounded by scaffolding and people. Workers and farmers and blacksmiths and carpenters and townsfolk were all starting to finish up for the day as the winter sun began to sink behind the horizon.

“You ever been to Alfield, kid?” Beau asked, watching as they stared at the people around them. They shook their head no, pointing at the people and gesturing for something big. “Yeah, there’s a lot of people about,” she said, hopping off the cart. “Looks like they’re rebuilding quickly.”

The party all started to dismount, watching as townsfolk called out to the Mighty Nein. Some gave their thanks, others watched with thankful eyes. A few bowed their heads as the cart passed. 

A halfling approaches the cart, running up to the Nein. Bits of splintered wood, dust, and other debris seem to slough off as he approaches, knocking the dirt off his shirt. “Thadeus Candleglow,” Nott says, almost to herself.

“I wasn’t expecting to see y'all return. Things are going along well. We’re doing what we can.”

“How much have you built back already,” Jester asks, looking around at the building. The kid stays in the cart, watching as the group begins to talk about their previous stay here, of the fires that broke out. Of gnolls, living and undead, that ravaged this small town. 

“Hey Thadeus,” Beau asks, looking around, “Is Bryce in?” The halfling directs them to the local jail, the Salt Trench. “We should go over there,” Beau says, nodding at Thadeus. 

As the group nears the jail, the kid starts to cower further into the cart. Jester looks at them questioningly, watching as they sink further down. “It’s totally, like, magicked so you can’t be seen,” she says aloud, looking at them. “So, like, if you don’t want to see Bryce, you could just hide there.”

“It would be safe, in the cart,” Caleb agreed, nodding. “We have traveled along and were unseen before. It is quite… useful.”

The kid leaned out, shaking their head. They pointed to the group, to the jail near the treeline, and then to them. Nott blinked, and said, “We aren’t taking you to jail. Why would we do that?”

Immediately, they looked around, eyes darting about. Then, they pulled a loaf of bread, and half a handfull of dusty cheese. “Did you steal that?” Jester asked, putting two and two together.

“It is not from this town. They will not know,” Yasha said. “They will not be angry.”

“Unless you tell them,” Molly pointed out. “So just… don’t tell them. Then, they won’t know.” He got a nod from the kid, and as the group neared the building, the kid hopped from the cart and trudged along in the dusty road. Half-hiding themselves behind Caleb, they watched as a guard chewing a piece of hay or straw grabbed Bryce from inside.

“To be fair,” Beau said, “I don’t remember him.” She gestured to the room. 

Realizing something, Fjord turned to Caduceus, and added, “Hey, Caduceus, you should probably be aware: we fought off a bunch of gnolls when we were making our way up through here.” 

“We cut off their ears and sold them for money.” Jester seemed satisfied with that, looking at the kid. “It was super gross.” The group began chatting about gnolls while the kid looked around to the forest, eyes wide. They’d not encountered them, themselves, but based on what everyone was saying… they seemed mean. Stories of creatures— half man, half beast— that roamed the countryside sprang up in their mind; stories from their parents, long ago, and the last little town they’d spent some time in. All spoke of the dangers of these creatures.

The Nein, however, seemed unphased. The door opened to reveal a half-elf, their blonde, shoulder-length hair curling softly in the ponytail that kept it away from their face. There were dark circles under their eyes, but they looked more overworked than unwell. Armor on, helmet in hand, Bryce welcomed the group, saying, “I wasn’t expecting company, let alone such welcome visitors.” Smiling, they add, “It’s good to see you.” 

They all chatted, Caduceus and the kid the only ones not receiving a welcome.

“Did you describe us, or just say The Mighty Nein?” Jester asked, turning to Caduceus, and then glancing down at the kid, who stood half-behind the firbolg.

“We’re new,” Caduceus said, gesturing to the kid peeking out from behind him. “Caduceus. Caduceus Clay. Pleasure. You’re a lot shorter than the last one they introduced me to.”

“That’s all right. Pleasure to meet you” They looked up at him, neck straining. “You are very tall and… strange.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed everybody else is very short.” He patted the top of the kid’s head. “It’s fascinating.”

“Who is this?” Bryce tried to lean over to see the kid, but they ducked to the other side of Caduceus instead. Still smiling, Bryce chuckled a bit, leaning over the other way. Their eyes caught, and the kid gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh, they’re just a kid,” Caduceus said, ruffling their unkempt hair. 

“Are they someone’s in particular?” Bryce pushed a hair from their face and said, “Taking them home to their family, perhaps?”

“Oh, no. They’re, like, totally riding along with us,” Jester said. “We’re going to Nicodranas, and the kiddo is coming, too!”

“That seems… dangerous.”

“Well,” Caduceus said, rubbing his chin, “It’s better than leaving them to travel on their own.” He noticed Bryce panic a bit at that, a hand grasping their helm tighter than before. “So, we thought it best to keep our eye on them.”

“Ah, yes. That would be preferable.” They looked to the others, and lowered their voice, adding, “Would it not be even safer, though, to ask someone to take care of them? Even with such a heroic group, traveling can be quite… unsafe.”

“Don’t we know it,” Molly said. “It’ll be fine— we’ve helped a kid before. It’s like a protection mission.”

“Alright,” Bryce said, sighing. “Well, welcome to Alfield. Any friends of these are friends of ours. Are you passing through? Or you’ve come to stay for a bit? You need not worry about finding lodging, we can have that arranged.” 

“That’s awfully kind of you,” Fjord drawled, smiling. 

“We’ve done that before, we can do it again. Well, I have a little bit more business to attend to and then I’ll be off my shift and perhaps I’ll join you for drinks.” Bryce gave the child a smile. “And something non-alcoholic for the child, perhaps?”

The Nien all flashed back to Kiri— ‘Do you drink, Kiri? Booze? Liquor? Alcohol?’— before nodding, vigorously.

“Yeah, of course! They can totally have some milk,” Jester said, looking at the group. Everyone agreed, watching the kid shrug behind Caduceus. They all sighed small sighs of relief at that, grinning. “Party time!”

They walked on towards the Feed and Mead Tavern ahead of Bryce, who had to finish up some business, first. The group was greeted with merry cheers and celebration, townsfolk offering to buy the group drinks as thanks for the earlier help. Some of their eyes lingered on Caduceus— who stood out for his height, pinkness, and status as the newest member of the Mighty Nein— and to the child. Some of the parents seemed to whisper, watching the child as they sat down with the group. A milk— upon Jester’s request— was placed before them before dinner was served.

The group talked around the child, filling Caduceus in on their shenanigans, as they looked around the tavern. It wasn’t beautiful, not like some of the buildings in Zadash. But it was homey and comforting, great wooden beams stretching across the ceiling. A roaring fireplace sat at one end, the bar at the other, with tables full of patrons all chatting and dinding in between. From the kitchens came an older man, tired but jolly, who served food to the group as Bryce returned.

They were in comfortable clothing; a light blue tunic draped over some brown leggings, their boots treading quietly across the floor as they walked. The kid’s turquoise eyes watched them carefully, ears picking up small conversations about why the Mighty Nein was traveling with a small child. It was all drowned out as the group cheered Bryce’s return, offering them a spot at the table to join them.

It was kind of comforting— save for the few moments where Jester used Thaumaturgy to open all the windows with a loud crash. The conversation around and above them lulled them, the noise turning into static before it reached their ears. Above them, the group discussed adult things— wars and gnoll incursions and people that’d gotten thrown in jail. About friends lost, friends returned, and friends nearly lost. 

A few moments later, they were asleep. Thankfully, the group decided, Molly draping his coat over their shoulders, before the talk of dicks began. 

Before Bryce left, though, they looked down at the sleeping child and around at the sloshed group. Jester and Caduceus seemed fine, but most of the others were pink or slurring their words from the alcohol. “Are you still sure you want to take the child with you?” They put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, looking at them carefully. A couple leaves poked out from the kid’s hair, and their face seemed a bit sunburnt. “There would be quite a few families happy and willing to take them in.”

“No,” Molly said, petting their head, “We’ve taken them in now. What’s done is done— hey! We’re their family now,” he hiccupped, grinning in a bit of a manic way.

Putting a hand up in the air as a farewell, Caduceus assured them, “We’ll take care of them.”

And with that, Bryce made their leave and the Mighty Nein— sloshed, sober, or sleeping— made their way upstairs for the night.

* * *

The child awoke in a bed. Groggy and frazzled, they blinked for a few moments before panic dawned on them. They pushed themselves up— they didn’t remember falling asleep at all. The last thing they remember was being in the tavern with the Mighty Nein, of Bryce’s assurances that someone could take them… They whirled about the room and saw nobody there. 

The room was empty.

Pushing the bedding aside, they ran to the door. It was open. Thank the gods above it was open. On unsteady, still sleepy legs, they dashed down the hall outside, found the stairway, and ran down. 

The tavern stretched out around them and, for a moment, they panicked. Where were they? Did they really leave them? The kid remembered the looks of the townsfolk. The whispers of the families. Thoughts of their safety not knowing… It was better if they were on the move. They wouldn’t be found that way.

But, peering at the crowd— some of whom turned to watch the kid barrel down the stairs— they saw the Nein. Most of them had the remnants of breakfast still laid out in front of them. Pastries, cheese and breads, some vegetables from the night before. Relief pulsed through the kid and they sank to sit on the bottom stair.

Caduceus pushed himself from the table, the only one who’d noticed the kid’s entrance from the other side of the room. The others were discussing the next town, of someone left behind at Trostenwald. It seemed like an apt time to break away. He felt Yasha watching him as he walked over to the kid, who glanced up at him with tired eyes. “Good morning, there,” he said, taking a seat a few stairs up. He didn’t fit on the bottom level. “How’re you this morning?”

They couldn’t answer, but instead turned to face him and pointed at the group, and up at the room. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that. We didn’t want to wake you up. We were going to come get you before we left.” He looked at their still hesitant face, and asked, “Why don’t you bring your things down, we can get some breakfast, and then be on our way?” 

Nodding, they stood up and walked to his step. For a moment, it seemed like they were going to say something— sign something— but they went back up, grabbed their bag, and came down to see Caduceus holding a plate of food for them, waving them over to the table with a steady grin on his firbolg face.

“It’s really pretty, the ocean,” Jester was saying as they returned, everyone making small talk about the waters. The kid perked up, listening to the group intently as they nibbled away at their food. 

“Have you ever been out of Empire?” Caleb asked, turning to Beau.

“No,” she replied, thinking, “furthest south I’ve been, I think, is Trostenwald.” 

The two humans nodded as Jester continued, “The water is really blue. I think you guys will like it. Yes, Nott, even you.” She seemed unconvinced. Something about swimming lessons was drowned out by the kid chewing on particularly crunchy toast, their eyes scanning the crowd again. People were staring, yes, but it seemed more reverent than angry. Maybe… maybe they would stay. Nobody seemed ready to take them away, anyways.

“It sounds amazing,” Caduceus said, thrilled, as the group began to pack up and get ready to leave. Gold exchanged hands— more than the kid had ever seen before. They watched in awe as the group bought some feed for their horses, Caleb waving away Nott’s attempts to give him money.

It was good luck, they thought as they took their last bite of toast, that they’d stumbled across the Mighty Nein. There were much, much worse people to find in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're up to just under 8000 words, about 15 pages in my document. That's maybe a sixth or seventh of the way through it, and we've just hit Alfield! The beginning is a bit slow, but it starts to pick up. I won't be writing every single day that the Mighty Nein have as a group... that would kill me. For now, it's close to day-by-day, as everything is new. Soon, it'll start skipping to the good stuff.
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you did get this far!


	3. Rowan, the Little Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now on the road to Trostenwald, the party starts to come into their element. A bit of the kid's backstory is revealed. And to a single party member, their name.

Caduceus and Jester took point that day, letting the horses lead the cart down the road. It was uneventful— the kid rode in the back with the others as they left Alfield and traveled further southward along the road. Some of the townsfolk— including a small kid— waved goodbye at them as they left the town’s limits. 

“Aw man, we saved their lives. That’s pretty cool.” Jester gushed, waving behind her as the figures of the town dissolved into the horizon.

“We’re awesome, yeah,” Nott said, looking back too. 

The cart sways down the road as the group continues on their journey, rocking gently as the horses pull it along. They chat; Nott pulls out some darning and shows Beau how to handle a needle and sew up some holes in her garments. The goblin pulls the kid in, too, saying that, “Everybody should know how to sew. You can sew up your clothes, or a cut, or a tear, or… other things.”

“Yeah! You could sew someone’s mouth shut!” Beau guffawed, mimicking it. 

“I think Nott meant wounds,” Fjord said from beside the cart, leaning his head in to see the trio. “It can help save a limb, keep it from going gangrene.” He paused, eyes falling on the child. They had a hand to their throat, touching the scar that spanned most of their neck. “Aye, like that.” 

Catching their eye, he gestured to his forehead, where a bright line cut through his eyebrows, and the various other lines that marked his face. “It just means you’ve had an interesting life,” he clarified, trying to empathize. 

“Meant nothing by it. We’ve all got our own fair share of marks.”

The kid nodded, pulling the scarf further up to cover their neck, their ears turning a bit pink.

Fjord leaned back out of the cart, sighing. He caught Nott’s eyes, and shrugged. Sensing an opportunity to chat, Jester leaned in and started to explain how, when she was but a little, blue tiefling, she’d gotten into trouble doing this or that, pointing out small scars on her knees and elbows. Beau jumped on it, too, showing off all marks of accidents in training. From climbing trees as a kid in Kamordah. From climbing cliffs as a teenager. From climbing buildings as a young adult. Sliding into the conversation, Molly undid the top few laces of his shirt— got an earful from Beau— and showed the kid the multitude of scars down his front. All wild stories from Tealeaf, the next one more unbelievable than the last.

The chatter left some time for Fjord and Nott to have a silent conversation. That morning, the Nein decided that while none of them quite knew each others’ stories, they were adults. That was a reasonable choice to make. But a kid on their own? Something didn’t sit well with the group. 

Of course, kids ran away from home and hung out in the woods for a couple days. Maybe. But most came home within the week. This kid, though. Two months, he remembered, trying to think of his own childhood. 

He was independent, sure. Any kid raised in that orphanage had to know how to fend for themselves. But that was versus other children. Not adults, not the wilderness. As Caleb had pointed out that morning, the kid was walking alongside the road that came from Zadash. That was a long ways away from where they said they hailed. To go it all alone, for months on end? He wondered if they were lying, or how much they were hiding.

Would it bite them all in the ass? No more than anyone else’s backstory would. Looking at Beau and Molly display their rather limitless number of scars with pride, he wondered whose past would come to claim them first. Molly’s had almost killed them. They didn’t even know Beau’s surname, yet. Caleb kept flippantly giving every townsperson and guard his full name— there had to be some secret behind that. Jester’s god made everyone nervous. Yasha barely spoke of her past, as did Fjord. Caduceus was an open book in some respects, but details were few and far between— hints of family members with bigger fish to fry. Without noticing, Fjord ran his tongue over his shaved-down tusks. 

Adding another bit of complexity to their already difficult group wasn’t that much, considering. There were nine of them now, counting the kid. Going from eight to nine couldn’t be that much different. Plus the kid was quieter than Kiri, and if the need arose, would be able to run away and take care of themselves for a bit. 

Just in case.

* * *

That evening, as the shadows began to grow along the path, Caleb pulled his spellbook from his pack and sat down on the cart. “Give me ten minutes,” he mumbled as he began reciting a spell, his hands gently pushing and pulling unseen arcane energy. Around him, there was a sot of buzz in the air. It made Caduceus’s fur stand up on end, send a bit of a shock to Yasha, and curl Molly’s hair.

Most of the Nein was focused on pitching up camp for the night, and went about their usual duties without much of a second glance. Still holding and talking about the jewels they’d found, Jester hopped out of the cart and started to dance and sing again. 

The kid sat near him, watching his hands with rapt attention. There was something in that look that the Mighty Nein couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t pure curiosity. They’d seen the group perform magic before; most weren’t shy about keeping it a secret. No, this was different. There was a knowledge behind their transfixed eyes. A clarity in the turquoise that came from experience.

“Hey kid, did you know a caster, before?” 

They nodded, without answering Beau or looking away from Caleb. Their eyes just trailed down from his hands to the book. Subconsciously, their hand moved to rest on their little bag, fingers feeling the shape of it. She watched as they traced the outline of a rectangle. 

“Do you have a magic book?” Jester asked, bounding up to the end of the cart. She pressed herself against the last board, leaning her chest on the wood. It would be odd for anyone but Jester to do. Alluring and coy was her default setting. “Is that why you’re— like— watching Caleb so, you know, carefully?”

In response, the kid blinked and tore their eyes from Caleb’s form as he began to complete a ritual casting. They placed a hand protectively on their satchel. Inside, resting between a few meager provisions and a pair of threadbare socks sat a box of components. Even their lips seemed tense, flattening into a straight, whitened line. 

Don’t say anything, they told themselves, If they don’t know where I’m from, they can’t take me back. And if they don’t know who I am… They’ll be safer. So, they shrugged. 

“Nah, I think you know more than you’re telling us,” Molly muttered, leaning against the cart, too. Everyone agreed that when he was ‘born’ two years ago, his default behavior was also set to ‘flirtatious,’ but it came across as more known than Jester’s apparent cluelessness. 

“Perhaps,” Caleb said, putting a hand on his book, “Now you can explain better.”

Nodding, the kid pointed to the page, and signed something. The group all watched, a bit surprised, at the speed and dexterity of their fingers. It wasn’t just random shapes, either. There was a sort of pattern to the shapes their fingers took. And, from what the Nein could tell, it wasn’t arcane ones either. Most of them had watched Caleb or Jester or Fjord or Caduceus enough to tell what was and wasn’t a spell. 

The kid seemed to finish a few sentences before Caleb smiled. 

“They say,” he translated, scratching the stubble of a beard that was starting to grow in, “That they knew magic. And that there was an old woman who used to show them.” The kid signed something a couple of times, and Caleb clarified, “Teach. She used to teach them.”

Beau whistled, leaning against the cart to watch. There was a different air about them, one of focus and clarity instead of the slight fever they had the night before. Maybe the long rest and food had helped. Maybe it was the day spent cat-napping in the cart. Maybe it was all in their heads. Who knew? Jester and Caduceus certainly would have healed the kid up, but they didn’t make a move to. So they couldn’t have been that bad. “You know magic, kid?”

Watching as the kid’s shoulders deflated a bit, but signed on, Caleb translated, “Years ago, they learned from this old woman. But they can’t talk anymore, so they can’t cast magic.”

“But, like—” Jester stuttered, pouting, “can’t you do magic without talking?”

Caduceus shook his head. “Try,” he prompted. And Jester did. She stood there, brow furrowed for a moment, clutching her symbol of the Traveler, to no avail. “I was trying to use Thaumaturgy to make all of the snow fall from the trees,” she complained, slumping over. “It’s super hard, you guys.”

“There are very few mages who can do it. It’s a sort of myth, all things considered,” Fjord supplied, rubbing his jaw with a free hand. “Maybe you can try?”

“They already have,” Caleb said, “they said they’ve been trying since, that.” The kid pointed at their scar.

“So like,” Beau asked, pointing at it with an accusative finger, “What’s up with that? What’s the story? If you didn’t have it when you were younger, why in the hell do you have it now? You gonna tell us?”

“Wow, Beau, that’s super rude,” Jester said, giving her a sad face.

“What?” She looked to Fjord, who shook his head. “You’re all thinking that too, right?”

“Yeah, but we aren’t going to ask like that!” Nott piped up, hopping up next to Caleb.

“They say it was taken out.” The wizard looked at them, a bit forlorn. He knew what it felt like to have magic wrenched from his grasp, to no longer feel the arcane weave beneath his fingers. It was like taking a sense away, to go from tasting sweet honey to tasting ashes. 

“We won’t pry any further,” Molly said, putting a gentle hand on the kid’s. They jumped a bit, but nodded with teary eyes. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to answer that asshole.” He jutted his thumb in Beau’s direction, grimacing. “She’s kind of fucked up.”

“Language!” Nott screeched. The kid seemed to giggle, their shoulders bouncing and hands covering a small grin that stretched across their face. The group froze for a moment, their minds whirring to comprehend what it all meant before Nott jumped to her feet and cheered. “Hah! I got their first smile, suckers!”

“No, I think that was Yasha,” Jester said, pointing at the barbarian. “They were super happy this morning with the flowers and stuff.”

Pushing himself from the cart, Molly said, “Yasha got the first smile, but you got their first laugh.”

“I’ll take that!”

“Alright, we’ve got to bed down for the night, so let’s split into groups. Caduceus, if you could park the cart and take care of the horses, Caleb and Beau— fire duty again? With the kid, so you can keep talking to them, Caleb— and Yasha and I can start some dinner.”

“I’ll take first watch with Nott,” Molly said, nodding to his compatriot. “Hunting can be fun. We’ll shoot anything that flies.”

“Or rats. They’re tasty, too,” Nott added, waltzing off towards the tree line. Molly rolled his eyes and joined.

The two moved off, Nott readying her crossbow while Molly strode forwards to send birds or beasts her way. With a final smirk to the kid, the rogue started to crawl through the underbrush and disappeared behind the banks of snow.

While the group finished setting up camp, the Nein would drift back to the kid and ask quick questions. They clarified that they didn’t have a voice because, as Caleb tried to translate, “It was bad?” Jester asked what their favorite color is, and they admitted it was dark red. 

When she came back all in a tussle, running towards the now smoldering fire, Nott wanted to know whether or not the kid had ever eaten a rat. When they shook their head, she didn’t need to wait for Caleb to translate it before she began to explain why it was so good, and delicious, and that she would certainly find one for them to try.

They hid a quick sign of terror to Caleb as she sprinted off into the forest, joining up with a waiting purple blob.

“You don’t have to eat it,” Caleb said, looking them in the eye over the fire. The flames licked around his hand as he kept it burning, waiting for the damp wood to dry enough to self-contain itself.

“Didn’t she say you guys are like, family or something? Beau asked, looking towards the spot where Molly and Nott had disappeared. “You were her son, or something?”

“ _Was_?”

“She said something about ‘parent and child’ the other day,” she clarified, shrugging. “Then Jester decided that must’ve meant you were her son.”

“I am not her son.” He blinked, perplexed. “She is a goblin,” he reminded her. 

“Yeah, but not in the blood-related sense,” Beau said. “Fuck blood related family,” she grumbled, poking the fire with a stick she’d found, “Found family’s the way to go.” She cackled when the kid nodded, watching her with a new light in their eyes. “See! Even the kid agrees, and they’re what… twelve?” They nodded. “Yeah, not even a teenager.”

Still confused, Caleb asked, “Do you mean… like Yasha and Mollymauk?”

“Yeah, well. I guess they count. They’re not related, but they’re like family. So. Found family.” She nodded at the kid. “It’s a thing.”

“I do not know if Nott believes I am her son— or like a son. I… do not see that as our relationship.”

“It’s cool.” She leaned over close to him though, and— under her breath— added, “Just. Don’t tell her that, yeah? Sounded kind of secret.”

“You are terrible with secrets.” The kid followed along, giving Beau a sidelong stare. It made the two adults laugh, attracting Caduceus, Fjord, and Jester.

The firbolg sidled up to the fire and began to pull out his cooking equipment. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, the horses are doing just fine,” he said, situating a metal tripod over the now steady fire. A large, copper pot was hung from the center, and filled with clear water from his waterskin. “The trees are looking wonderful.” His pink eyes swept around the canopy, looking at the autumnal colors surrounding them. “It’s a shame we’re going so far South— we may not see any snow in the Menagerie Coast.”

“Definitely not in Nicodranas,” Fjord added, shrugging, “Much too warm for that.”

Flouncing next to them and taking out a piece of old pastry, Jester added, “But, like, snow’s super cold and wet— which is so not fun when your socks are all nasty and freezing. So it’s nice in the wintertime!” 

As Fjord started pulling out some vegetables from the bottom of his pack to hand to Caduceus, he sighed. “Snow on the ocean is mighty beautiful,” he said, a wistful air in his voice. “It’s cold enough that it falls, but the water just dissolves it. So the only thing that turns white is the ship, glittering in the light of lanterns. It’s gorgeous.” He smiled at the others now returning with some poor, dead birds. “And it’s so quiet, too. Like someone’s magicked the world into silence.”

“Is there enough snow for snowmen?”

“If there is, you wouldn’t want to be outside to make them,” he specified, “If it’s coming down that hard, it’s best to hoist the sail, lower the anchor, and stay put as best as you can.”

Sliding in beside the kid, Molly propped his elbow on his knee and added, “I’d still make a snowman in that weather. It’d be fun to put it right on the pointy part of the ship.”

He blinked. “You mean the bow?”

“Mhmm,” Molly hummed, looking at the kid and winking, “I most assuredly knew that was the name for the pointy, front end of a vessel.” The kid gave him a small grin, and started signing something. 

Interpreting, Caleb narrated the signs with slightly furrowed brow. “They say their favorite thing to do when it snows is to make little castles.” The group watched as the kid motioned building one, putting little roofs on circular towers, making a drawbridge, and marking out the spot for a moat in the air. “Uh… they were just showing you what it looked like,” Caleb added, apologetic. “That didn’t seem to translate…”

“Oh. It wasn’t words, per say.” He frowned. “This is quite confusing.”

The kid shrugged, signing something. Nodding, he explained, “They don’t know a lot of— hand language? Is that what it is called? No, Hand Common? Sign Common— They’re still learning Signed Common, so they just… gesture when they don’t know the word. Or spell it.”

“Can you teach us the alphabet, kiddo?”

They looked to Beau, and nodded. For the next half-hour, until the last of Comprehend Languages wore off, Caleb and the kid tried to teach the Mighty Nein how to spell in Signed Common. He would narrate and explain as the kid leaned over and prodded and moved fingers and hands into the right shape, slowly moving through the letters. 

After the lesson— which continued over the stew Caduceus made, and the kid tried to show everyone the sign for everything they knew— Caleb, Nott, and Beau seemed to be faring quite well. While Caduceus and Jester made good attempts, they didn’t seem to get the handle of signing it. Molly had fun spelling out dirty words behind their backs, and Yasha started to gently spell out the names of flowers she knew. 

Jester loved it.

“We can, like, totally talk while the enemy doesn’t know what hit them!” She started trying to figure out how to sign her moves, mistakes flying from her fingers left and right, as she hopped around the group, swinging her axe through the night air, still in its cover. 

The kid shook their head, tapped her on the knee, and proceeded to try explaining the signs as best as they could, but she was too excited about the prospect of silent battle strategies to be focused. Molly eventually took her over, talking about how much he wanted to see and talk to Jester’s mother, while the kid turned to Caduceus and started helping him sign the word for ‘mushroom’ and ‘grow.’ He got them, but putting them together was hard.

By the end of the evening, Caleb had promised to cast Comprehend Languages when he had enough spells when the Nein bunked down for the night, and the kid said they’d try and teach the team some signs for use in combat. They signed slowly, letting each motion rest in the air for a moment before moving on to the next one, spelling out the words one at a time. “‘I don’t know all the words for fighting,’” Nott read aloud, watching their hands with her bright, yellow eyes, “‘But we can always make up some!’ I quite like the sound of that. Secret signs!”

“What do you do for names,” Yasha asked, forming her hand into the letters of her name. “It seems long, to spell it out.”

“‘You get sign names,’” Beau recited. “Oh, that’s cool. So, I guess, do you have a sign name?”

The kid made a K with their fingers, bringing it near their nose. “... What does that mean.” They spelled it out. “Oh. So ‘kid’ and K.”

“Your name is just ‘Kid?’” Molly asked, frowning. “Seems… odd.” They shrugged.

The group looked at the kid; an unspoken thought lingered in the back of their minds. Who would’ve given a child the name ‘Kid?’ It was not their own, that was obvious. A cruel nickname, perhaps, or something borne of necessity. Either answer was unknown. Coughing to clear his throat, Fjord asked, “Ah, do you have another name you go by, small one?”

The kid just shook their head. 

“Do you have a name you, like, want to use? Sometimes I call myself Jester Fluffypants!” She patted her legs, showing off the bloomers underneath her skirt. “It’s super fun.”

Again, the kid seemed unconvinced. 

“Seems you don’t want us to use your name,” Caduceus guessed, watching as a bit of horror and fear laced through the kid’s eyes. “That’s alright; names are special things. Some people give them away, some people keep them secret. Guess you’re the latter.”

“I made up my own name,” Mollymauk said, leaning against Yasha. “Picked it out myself.” He leaned over and asked, “Hey, kiddo? Since you’ve got one of those fancy name signs, can we have some? Is that alright?”

The kid nodded, pointed to him, and made a sign. “Ooh, is this for me?” The child nodded, and signed it slower, showing him the M formed in their hands, and curling it around to look like his horns. “Oh! I get it!” He made the sign himself, proud. “It’s my horns,” he preened, triumphant.

For Jester, the kid signed a J that ended with their pinky pointing at their cheek, which the Nein figured out as Jester’s dimples. “I love it!” She grinned, signing her name over and over, her little finger prodding her cheek and pointing out her dimples. 

Fjord’s sign was an F, pointer finger and thumb tapping his lips. He thanked the kid, a bit curious. “Why there?” When they leaned forwards and displayed their own teeth, pointing at the canines, he blushed. “Ah, yes.” Deflating a bit, the kid looked up at him with a concerned expression. “No, it’s nice. A good sign.” They weren’t convinced, though, but let it slide when Fjord assured them he wasn’t uncomfortable. But once they turned their back to help Molly with his sign again, the half-orc started picking at his tusks again.

Turning to Yasha, they gave her a one-handed, Y shaped version of ‘strong,’ pointing to her muscular arms and explaining the choice as best as they could.

When the kid turned to Caduceus, however, the whole party understood. “My hair,” he said, tracing a C down his long, pink locks. “I guess I’m not allowed to cut it, then.” 

Nott’s was simple, too. But like Fjord, she seemed quite uncomfortable at the thought that her name sign was based solely on her pointy ears. Just a simple N, tracing the outline of her goblin ears. The kid saw her expression and frowned, pointing to Fjord and signing something to themselves. “It’s okay,” Nott tried to say, before the kid shook their head and crossed their arms. They seemed to think for a bit, and came up with an N, tracing their neck. At Nott’s confusion, they pointed at the buttons around her neck. “Oh, yeah! That’s a good one,” she said, a hand to the little necklace of buttons she had made. “I like it.”

Beau’s was simple, and the group agreed. It made sense. It was just a B, tracing down in front of her. Like when she stands at the ready. Or, as the kid literally pointed out, “Like my bo staff!” she chuckled, picking it up and holding it in front of her. “Yep. That’s perfect.”

To everyone’s surprise, Caleb’s was the hardest. The kid looked at him, signing a few ideas to themselves. One focused on his beard, another his scarf, and a third on his books. The kid settled, though, for a cuter one. “Like whiskers on a cat, ja?” He said, hand stroking nonexistent hairs above his lip. “What is the sign for cat?” When the kid showed it to him, he nodded, understanding. “Would Frumpkin’s name be this?” He asked, adjusting the sign to be more of an F. The kid shrugged. “Thank you.”

* * *

When Caleb awoke, feeling the frost crack and rustle on the grass around him as he pushed himself up, he saw the kid sitting up, looking at a box. It sat on their lap, partially covered by the draping fabric of their cloak. Staring at it with their head bowed, finger tracing the divisions between smaller sections, he watched their lips form the shape of silent words. When their hands formed the telltale shape for Prestidigitation, he sighed. At some point, they’d been a little magician. He scratched his forearms absently, watching as they finished the silent incantation and nothing came out. 

Their brow furrowed and they tried again. And again. At least ten times, they did all the steps correctly, reciting the words in their mind and forming the proper shapes with their free hand. But none of the arcane power poured through them.

A slow drip of ice landed in Caleb’s stomach. The thought of losing his own powers— however weak his spells were now— was terrifying. Silence was one thing— it was easily disturbed by damage, and only lasted so long. This… this was like an everlasting Silence, one that lingered, indefinite and invulnerable. He wondered, watching the kid try for the eleventh time just that morning, if they did this before. If they spent a few minutes, every day, trying to make the spells come forth. It was obvious, to him, that they’d experienced the rush of adrenaline as the weave around them bent. The electric power that one could focus and use. There was a comforting rush of release, like stress blown away, when a spell cast properly.

The fifteenth time they tried, he leaned over and tapped the corner of their box. Horrified, their eyes widened as they shuffled backwards on their ass, the kid stared at him. “You will drive yourself mad,” he mumbled, eyes looking down at their tome. “Every wizard tries to cast without words. It is not possible for us. We are not powerful enough. Perhaps for mages who have lived hundreds or thousands of years. Whose body is made of their own magic. But our ilk?” He gestured at the two of them, quiet but frustrated, “it is not for us.”

The kid shook their head, signing something. From underneath Caleb’s hand, they wrenched their box, frustrated tears leaking out of the corner of their eyes. 

Oh no. That was wrong, all wrong. “I am sorry,” he said, feeling himself backtracking, “But it’s not— the stories say— I’ve only heard of great and powerful casters who can do this. The tales are all of old, experienced mages.” They shied away from him further, turning around so their back was to the now pained wizard. “I— I do not… I do not think it healthy to— to hurt yourself like this.”

With a final scoot away from him, they covered their ears and buried their head between their knees.

He sat back, a new kind of fear rising up in him. That… wasn’t a good move. He shouldn’t have done that. His mind began to spiral as he stood up, retrieving a little bit of frosty firewood, as he stoked the cinders back to life. He’d ruined everything, just when the group was feeling a bit more stable and capable. They’d run away. It would be all his fault.

Caduceus woke a minute or so later, as little, yellow flames began to lick the sides of a log. His eyes lingered on Caleb, whose gaze was transfixed on the play of the fire along the wood, his hand resting outwards as he shaped a Fire Bolt to coax the campfire. Then, he turned around and saw the kid, shoulders hunched and hiccuping. “Hey,” he said, moving to sit next to them. “It’s alright. Let it all out.” He rested a blanket over their shoulders, pulling it around their curled form. He watched as their little hands— a bit pale from the chill, he suspected— crawled out from under their tangled hair to grab the blanket. As they pulled it close to themselves, he saw the corner of a box peeking out from their lap.

“Oh, is this your box?” He asked, tapping the binding. When he got no response, he said, “I don’t think it’s comfortable to sit like that, and it could crumple the pages. Do you want me to hold it?” They burrowed their face into the blanket, but unfurled just enough for him to take the tome.

It was a little box full of spell components, that was sure. He’d seen Caleb pocketing things in his jacket like this. Bits and bobs of the natural world that, to the untrained eye, seemed worthless. The larger box was divided into smaller sections, each one holding an item or two. Writing sprawled in the lengths of wood, marking down the contents. The writing on it was a bit rough— he assumed the child had written it themselves— but it was readable. He scanned the words, tracing a finger over the wood grain. “You should ask Miss Jester about Thaumaturgy,” he said, thinking back. “She’s very good at blowing windows open.”

Now under the blanket, the kid shook their head side to side.

“Oh, well, it can be used for more than that. You can make candles go out, or make noises happen, all that.” They gave him another no, which made him remember. “Right. Well.” He watched their posture for a moment later, before he looked to Caleb, who was distinctly not meeting his eye. The wizard had his back turned, but a hand was stroking his spellbook. Caduceus saw the pale fingers stroking the binding, contemplative. “I don’t think there’s any harm in trying,” he said, closing the kid’s tome. “Does it use energy to try and cast?” The kid shrugged. “Does it make you sad or angry when it doesn’t work?” They shrugged again, but peered out at him from under the blankets.

“I don’t think there’s a problem with trying,” he repeated, tapping the box. “If it doesn’t work, nothing’s changed. The situation can’t get worse. There’s a chance it’ll get better.” Contemplating it, he nodded. “So the only way from here is up, don’t you think?”

Looking away, they kid nodded after a few quiet moments. A hand stretched out from under the blankets and reached for the box. He gave it to them, and they flipped it open so the inside cover was visible.

On it was a small inscription, in a handwriting that was much more fluid and well-versed than the kid’s own script. A dedication, Caduceus decided after reading it over for a moment; his eyes traveled across the words quite slowly. Some of the letters were smeared and splotchy, little circles of water damage that scattered across the paper pasted inside. From what he could read, though, it was hopeful. A master’s dedication to a pupil.

He assumed the name at the top was the kid’s, but decided to keep it a secret. Rowan was such a nice name.

“Did your teacher write this for you?” The kid nodded, tapping the name at the bottom. Rowan leaned against Caduceus as they signed out the name, now too faded and damaged to read. “One more time?” They repeated the gestures, cold fingers forming clear letters. “Ameile?” he asked, sounding out the name. “Was that the old woman you told us about?”

They nodded against his arm, curling into his side. For a moment Rowan sat there, their eyes fixed on the box. He watched their gaze, noticing the glassy look in their eyes, before they pulled themselves up and away in a sharp motion, stepping so that there was space between themselves and Caduceus. 

He closed the lid and handed them the box, unphased. “Thank you for showing me this,” he said, handing it back. “If you want my help, I’d be happy to help.” A wordless promised rested on his lips. I will not tell the others who you are. If you want to keep it a secret, it’s yours to share. In the back of his mind, though, he wished they would be more open. The Nein would not judge them for anything they’d done or been through.

Rowan nodded, handing him back his blanket, and went off to stuff their box into their backpack. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb looking between them, his own expression dark and guilty. He pet Frumpkin with one hand, not watching the other as it sat a bit too close to the fire. It took him a few moments to pull his fingers back, wincing at the pain. Caduceus caught his eye, and pointed to his own hand as if to ask, ‘Are you alright?’ 

Caleb shrugged away from the firbolg’s look, ears deepening to a pinkish shade. 

Wizards are like cats, he thought to himself, folding his blanket and packing the rest of his bedroll away. He looked across the group and counted, realizing there were only eight of them. At some point in the night, Yasha had wandered away, her footprints disappearing into the underbrush a few hundred feet away.

He leaned over, tapping Molly on the shoulder. The tiefling awoke, looking at the ground Caduceus was pointing at. He nodded, mumbling about how she said goodbye in the night, and rolled over, trying to fall back asleep. “She does that,” he added, “every once in a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Third out of three chapters posted in quick succession. From here on out, things will be going much slower, as I've got some more editing and fine-tuning to do. This is really where things get a bit more complicated. Adding in a new character, plus having Molly still alive... it starts to complicate things further down the line. Nothing major changes, since doing that would change the entire outcome of the game. And though I love DMing, I wouldn't want to do that... That's a lot...
> 
> We're now at about 14k of the 50k I wrote in November! Things will start to slow down on the posting end, but hopefully pick up on the story end! (Plus, the title will start to make sense, soon...)
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment!


	4. The Arcane Weave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nein passes through Trostenwald and the Wuyun Gates, meeting a pair of aggravated Ettins along the way. In the fray, something wonderful happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part four, where things start to happen!
> 
> Quick content warning: Canon-Typical Violence in the form of two Ettins getting their asses handed to them.

The rest of the Nein noticed that the kid seemed more comfortable with Caduceus for the next few days. The group watched as Rowan sat behind him, their legs straight in front of them as they watched the sky and the trees. Sometimes, they walked alongside the cart, stretching their legs until they were tired, with a hand resting on the bench. But always within earshot and eyeshot of Caduceus. 

They would lean over and pat him on the knee, every few yours, and show him something they’d noticed. A pretty field of flowers off in the distance. The shadowed figure of a crow flying dozens of feet above the group. Or the approaching mountains in the distance.

On the contrary, they seemed to shy away from Caleb. Which was saying something, seeing as how they were so thankful he had cast a spell to understand them. Their wizard, too, seemed to steer clear of them, and chose to walk beside Nott or practically hide himself behind Beau.

Fjord sighed, wondering what in the world happened.

The rest of the day was quiet, save for the bandit they passed. That was a tense few minutes.

In the front of the cart, Caduceus and Jester disguised themselves, the kid feeling a small twinge in their heart. It came so easily to the clerics, something pulled from a place aetherial. It felt fresh, their magics; like green shoots and sparkling waters. The two turned around to shush the rest of the Nein, hiding under the enchanted cart, looking like two normal humans on their way to sell goods at a market. It felt weird, not seeing blue and pink and aquamarine. 

As the figure on horseback passed by, those who hid watched with quieted breaths. Dark, salt and pepper hair. Darkened clothing, with a strip of fabric over his suntanned face. Something shifty about him, as he passed. Something full of intent written into the creases in his face. The look of a man who didn’t want to be stopped, or noticed, or remembered.

Oh, they would remember. 

They all kept their cool for ten minutes after he passed, watching as his form galloped over a hill, disappearing as he made his way down the other end of the slope. Beau snapped her fingers and whispered, “Oh my god, those were totally his jewels the other day.”

The group bust up laughing at that, Caduceus smiling and patting Jester as both of them let their Disguise Self drop. Their color returned, and it felt like the group returned too. Quiet did not easily surround the Nein. “He’s so in trouble. Big, big _doody_ piles of trouble!” Jester sent Nott and Beau a smirk, patting Caduceus on the arm. “Such a good find!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Nott called. As she took a swig from her flask, Fjord gave her a look. “What? You haven’t had a problem with this before!” She followed his look and saw Rowan watching, looking inquisitive. 

“Stay in school, don’t drink, don’t do drugs,” Beau repeated, some old mantra coming to the forefront of her mind. Like a sour flashback. “Well. I guess the first one is kind of out of the question, now.”

“I dunno,” Molly said, leaning on Jester's lap, “There are a lot of things you can learn on the road. I learned everything I know on the road!”

“You don’t count,” Beau said, giving him a look. “You weren’t even, like, a person two years ago.”

“I was a person, just not me.” His tail twitched in irritation. “Point still stands,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “Do you have a book, kiddo? Do you have a pencil? Some charcoal? Ink and a quill? We can teach you. How’s that, for school?”

Quietly, Caleb mumbled, “School is overrated.”

Beau held out her hand for a fist bump. “I can get behind that.” They shared a moment of solidarity before the monk hopped out of the cart. “I can teach you to fight, kid, but not much more than that.”

“Don’t the teachers at the Cobalt Soul tell you anything about, I don’t know… gods and magic and history and monk shit?” Nott asked, leaning her head outside the cart. 

“Well, yeah. But like, I’m not really meant for classroom environments,” she shrugged, stretching her arms out as she walked. “So no guarantees that I’ll remember anything. Slept through class mostly. Shrugging, Beau didn’t look particularly broken up about the lost possibilities. “Stuff’s all boring, anyways.”

“Caleb can teach you about history, and magic, and all of that!” Nott decided, popping her head back into the cart to turn to the kid. “He’s very smart!” Rowan tilted their head to the side, expression smooth; they remained unconvinced. “I could teach you about potions and poisons! And acids!” Leaping across the cart, she rummaged in her pack and took out a vial of greenish, viscous liquid. “Acids are amazing!”

The group all chatted, offering their knowledge to the kid. Though they went through their bag— a wooden box full of items jostling around a bit— the kid didn’t have anything reasonable to write on or with. And with the swaying of the cart, and the probable guilt at using Jester’s pretty inks, Rowan never managed to take notes. But they listened. That was something they were good at. The stories made the rest of the uneventful afternoon more exciting, at least. 

Everyone seemed to have fun sharing stories. Nothing important, nothing that bared their souls. But fun things, ones that spoke of hijinks and rule-breaking. Of old friendships. Of family. Their most colorful memories— though, the ones suitable for a ten-year-old’s ears. Even Caduceus chimed in, talking about the families he’d seen during his work at the cemetery.

“It feels like only yesterday,” Molly quipped, now lounging half on an annoyed Beauregard, half on his pack, “that I met you all.”

“Yeah, it totally doesn’t feel like a month or whatever,” Jester agreed. “And now we’re going to Nicodranas! You all will get to see my momma! And the Menagerie Coast!”

“But first, we have to get through Trostenwald,” Fjord said, looking to the horizon. “Should get there tomorrow.”

And indeed, it was. The next afternoon saw the Nein reaching Trostenwald. They hitched the wagon at the same inn they’d visited the last time they were there. Everyone piled in to the jailhouse and watched as Caduceus— still calm, quiet, and peaceful as ever— scared the holy water out of Gustav. After they drank and made merry in the inn, and climbed their way up to their few rooms, the firbolg himself noticed the kid sneaking quick and worried glances his direction. But they tried to act unphased.

As the morning rose, the kid woke up in a room with Jester and Beau. The sun was shining through the window, and the Nein’s monk was doing push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and all forms of ups in the morning light that shone through the room’s little window. 

“Four more days of travel to the Wuyun Gates,” Caleb said as they left the city’s streets and made their way to the road connecting the Empire with the Coast. “Should be quiet enough.”

And indeed, it was. For three days, the road was quiet. Beau and Caduceus headed the trail, as their firbolg companion seemed in tune with the horses in more ways then one. The group all took turns on the cart; the kid was the most frequent rider, though. Sometimes, when they were alone, they’d try casting again, pulling their box from their pouch. They'd grip the appropriate components in hand and mouth the shapes for the words.

When Caleb was near, he’d do his best not to watch. Guilt still played in the back of his mind. But in a twisted way, he felt a bit vindicated every time one of the kid’s spells did not work. And then that sickening feeling would rear its head in his stomach and he’d walk away to find Nott, or Fjord, or Beau.

It was difficult, for both of them. Their frustration would rise and fall, often ending the lid snapping shut and the spell components shoved into their pack. Other times, the kid would huff and sigh. A few times, though, they would start to sniffle, drop their things on the cart, and climb over to the bench and sit beside Caduceus. He never seemed phased when Rowan buried their face into his coat. He would just pat their head, and talk about plants, or fungi, or death.

It was difficult because it felt like they were _close_. That welling up of pressure inside their heart seemed to appear, at random intervals, but nothing took. On the third day, after a full hour of attempting to cast a cantrip, Caduceus chuckled when they silently sighed and threw their head back onto the bench of the cart. He looked down at them, at their upside down face, and asked, “Still not good?” They shook their heads, watching as Beau looked at their head. She grinned. 

“You look like a floating head,” she said, gesturing to the cart. “Damn that illusion is fun.” The kid gave her a watery grin. She made a pained face and grimaced. 

“Are you going to keep trying?” Caduceus asked, seeming to ignore Beau’s amusement.

“Keep trying at what?” Beau asked, before making a noise of realization as the kid disappeared and reappeared with their box of components. “Right. Yeah. Totally remember you used to be able to cast spells.” When they tapped their throat, she nodded again. “Yep. No, I didn’t forget. Uh-uh. I remember all, just like Caleb.”

“Just like me, _was_?” He asked, sidling over. “I heard my name?”

“Nope, nothing at all.” Beau said, smirking as she hopped up onto the cart. “We weren’t talking about you, were we?” The kid caught her gaze and shook their head, retracting their box. Caduceus watched the other two, decided it was a thing, and shook his head too.

“ _Ja_ , I don’t believe you all,” Caleb grumbled, letting the cart move away from him as he waited a moment for Nott. “You are terrible at lying,” he called, looking over at Rowan. “You cannot lie for beans.”

The trio giggled— the kid without a sound— and Beau looked to them. “So, like, you used to cast magic? What were you, a wizard?” 

Shaking their head, the kid clambered up onto the seat between the two. They showed Beau their box, opening it. Beau did not know if the kid understood just how open it was. The inscription, for one thing, was readable. “This was, like, specially for you?” They nodded. “Fancy.” 

“How have your attempts gone?” Caduceus asked, keeping an eye on the road. He watched the world around him, fascinated by the wide, open spaces. “Any luck?”

With a wobbly hand, the kid spelled out a few sentences to Beau. “So. You’re— maybe— almost there? What’s that?” She watched, and then asked, “What’s this about your heart feeling tight?” With an impressed look, she asked the firbolg, “Is that what all magic feels like?”

Still driving, Caduceus said, “When I cast, I’m using the Wild Mother’s blessings. I often feel her near me. I use her power to call forth magic.” He looked down at the kid. “It’s less of my heart feeling tight. It feels more open, to me.”

“Sick,” Beau added. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re a cleric— you get your magic from a deity— and the kid got their magic from… what… the arcane? The world around them?” She watched them sign, and shook her head. “Yeah the whole ‘bending the weave of the world’ is all beyond me,” she admitted. “Talk to the nerd for that one.”

There was a quiet beat. Then, Rowan shrugged, and put their box back in the bed of the cart. The trio lapsed into silence, just enjoying the quiet day. 

A complete secret to everyone but herself, Beau was surprised the kid was comfortable with the close proximity. What with Caduceus on one side, and her on the other, the kid was bumping shoulders and knocking against them as the cart rocked back and forth. She remembered the first couple of days, when Molly or Jester would try to brush a hand over their head, or grab their attention with a gentle hand on their shoulder. They’d jump, something wild in their eyes. But now the kiddo seemed unphased. In just a few days, they’d grown used to the touchy-feely friendliness most of the Nein had towards each other.

Instead, they watched the world around them, too, noticing the approaching wall that lined most— if not all— of the horizon. They pointed at it, looking at Beau for clarification; one of their eyebrows disappeared into their messy hair.

“Those are the Cryios Mountains,” she said, pointing to one side, “and those are the Ashkeeper Peaks. Where they meet up, there’s the Wuyun Gates. That’s where the path’s going.” 

Sidling up to the cart, Jester giggled. “Yeah,” she said. “There’s like, this gorge between the two of them, and the path goes right through the middle.” She leaned against the cart, looking up at Beau. “I’ve been here before, so I’m totally used to the area.”

As they began to reach the end of the Marrow Valley, they finally saw the gates themselves. Great, iron and wood gates, over two stories high, reached up into the clear, late autumn skies. “They’re a good ten, fifteen feet thick,” Fjord added, gesturing with his arms out. “With the battlements and such, the gates themselves are even taller.” As they came closer, they saw a group of soldiers, around fifty in number, clothed reddish garments and a very different set of armor. It looked nothing like the Crownsguard. 

“What do you make of those, Mr. Fjord?”

“The Righteous Brand,” Fjord told Caduceus, whistling under his breath. He leaned an arm against the cart and added, “Should be fine, though it’s gone up ten-fold since we were here. We’re leaving, which isn’t as dire as enterin’ would be.”

“Seems fair,” Beau agreed, hopping off the cart. “They’re going to inspect us, though.”

The Nein looked at their very enchanted cart and thought fast. The firbolg, however, seemed stuck on something, his clever eyes glazed over in an odd, unbecoming way. 

“Uh… Caduceus? Why is your nose bleeding?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Jester asked again, looking over him. “Are you ill? Does that happen when you think, like, really hard?”

“Hm?” 

The kid took a piece of fabric from their pack— a scrap of something from years ago— and held it out to him. He nodded, wiping the blood dribbling from his nose.

The others began contemplating how to turn off the enchantment on the cart, trying to figure out if there was any way that it can be disrupted or dispelled temporarily. “We should empty the cart,” Caleb said, when they realized it would only turn off if the whole illusion went away. “Then we walk by foot? If they poke a stick in, then there’s nothing there?”

“What’s the excuse, then, for an enchanted cart?” Fjord asked, thinking. “We need a reason.”

“It’s a very good cart. We are merchants, _ja_ , and had a cart made to deter thieves.”

“I like this plan.” Fjord watched as Jester pulled a leaden box out of her bag and opened it. “Shouldn’t I be the one to look into it? Seeing as how I haven’t, yet, and will be doing all the talkin’?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jester handed the box over, the kid watching with a curious expression. They tried to look at the object inside of that box, but Fjord had it under wraps. “Your turn, so you can be, like, super persuasive.”

“Silver tongue,” Caleb agreed.

“I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Beau said, looking to Nott. The two shared a look of solidarity. The kid tapped Beau’s shoulder, and acted like they were buttoning up their lips. “Hey, that’s a good one,” she said, clapping them ever-so-gently on the shoulder. “You should teach Molly that one. He’s too loud.”

“Excuse you,” he said, “I’m a _treasure_.” 

“That’s a hell of a thing,” Fjord said, looking up from the box and blinking. 

As they neared the passage, Nott retreated behind the cart and mumbled something to herself. A small halfling woman stepped from behind the cart, and said, “I’m ready.”

When the group did approach the soldiers, the kid stayed on the cart, sitting next to Beau. The guards approached with Fjord with their queries, who lied quite well about their business. When they started to peer at the goods stacked up behind them all, even though Fjord said they carried nothing, Caduceus chimed in: “There’s actually nothing in the cart. This is a preventative measure against theft. You can feel free to inspect the cart yourself, if you like.” As the guards poked their heads in, he added, “It’s kind of neat, right?”

“What are you looking to attain in Nicodranas and Port Damali?” The captain continued, still fascinated by the cart. 

“Some fabrics and meats. My friends have yet to experience what the Coast has to offer, so I’m hoping to show them around some.” 

After a tense moment, the captain nodded. “Very well,” she said, “move along.”

They made their way through the gates; Fjord looked up at the guards above them on a walkway, and then at the ones stationed at further points along the mountains. He gave them a nod, and a smile, but said nothing to the group.

It took a few moments before everyone relaxed, and the thought set in. “We’re not in the Dwendalian Empire any longer,” Caleb mused aloud, sitting on the end of the cart. He watched as his homeland, the only place he had ever known, move off into the distance, blocked off by the mountain range that surrounded them.

“I know, right! Fucking exciting!” Beau leapt from the cart and started to run alongside, hopping rocks and climbing up the walls. She looked ahead, watching as the path meandered through the two mountain ranges, the gorge itself steep in some areas and flat in others. 

Away from the other carts trying to enter the Empire, the air is quiet and still again. Some birds flew above, their calls and voices echoing in the cavern below. Caduceus kept the cart on the straight and narrow, but watched as a weird formation of rocks moved into his vision. They jutted out, great boulders and caves created by centuries’ old seismic activities. In comparison, Molly looked thrilled at the area, sighing. “It’s been so long since we’ve been out of the Empire,” he added, looking around. “I’ve forgotten how odd this area looks.”

“It’s the mountains,” Caleb explained, kicking loose pebbles from underfoot. “The two ranges create an environment of their own.” He glanced at the sun, high in the sky, loosening his scarf. “It is quite warm, now.”

“Amazing how much better the weather is down here!” Molly said, shedding his cloak to remove a sweater, tossing that in the cart, and putting his riotous coat back on. “Feel the warm air! I can almost smell that salty breeze.”

“Before we celebrate,” Caduceus muttered, pulling the horses to a standstill. “Can we be quiet for a moment?” The group hushed around him, the kid watching as his ears pricked forwards and a bit to the side. “I hear voices.”

“What kind?” Nott whispered.

“There’s giants, up ahead.”

The group blinked, and all eyes fell on the kid. They startled, looking at everyone’s faces, and then gestured to the cart, and underneath it. “Yeah, seems like a good plan. But watch out for rocks,” Beau said, and nodded when the kid seemed to understand. She pointed back towards the gates. “Run if you need to. The guards will protect you, if the giants come too close.” They give her a pained expression, looking back to where they came, but nodded. “Good.” They’re hours away, but in an emergency, it would be more than enough distance. 

“I think he was planning on ambushing us,” Caduceus mumbled, pointing at a fifteen-foot tall giant about thirty feet away and up the cliff side. Reaching into the cart, he retrieved his staff and mumbled an incantation. “Let’s see if Calm Emotions does anything,” he whispered. The wind picked up as he released the spell, all eyes watching the figure of the giant. “Oh, that worked.” 

He grinned, watching the others stare at him in awe. With a quiet word to the horses to keep going, despite anything else, he got the cart rolling again. Caduceus waved to the giant, saying, “Nice leathers you’ve got there.”

Under his breath, Fjord murmured, “Holy — Are you fucking kidding me.”

“I know. Holy shit,” Beau agreed.

The cart moved past the first giant, until a second voice rang out, shouting something in giant. “Oh no,” Caduceus said, pulling the cart to a standstill. The horses stomped, their ears flickering like the firbolg’s. 

“There’s two of them?” Nott scream-whispered, looking around. 

“I don’t think the Ettins see you guys,” he said, looking around. “You’re all in the cart.” Then he felt a light tapping, and looked down at the kid, still sitting beside him. “Oh dear.”

Looking up at the second, aggravated Ettin, Caduceus called, “I think it’s really unfair you’re just putting this all on him. I think you really– you’ve got to chill out a bit. I mean, you seem like a nice guy. You’re really listening to this? Good.” He kept the cart moving forward, feeling Rowan start to shrink against him. Perhaps the two hadn’t seen them? They were quite small. “You guys have got issues, man.”

They started shouting at each other, and above the din, the group could hear Caduceus scoff: “Language! Come on!”

One of the Ettins looked down at him, perplexed, and addressed the firbolg directly. “Yeah, man. Who doesn’t speak giant? That’s just rude.” A pause, more babbling, and he said, “I don’t think you’re dumb.” 

From inside the cart, they could hear Caleb mumbling a spell. Rowan recognized it, feeling the effects of the arcane weave as they watched the second giantkin fall under the effects of the Fear spell. It picked up a boulder, starting to heft it above its head, before it screamed. The sound reverberated through the gorge, and the group watched the second Ettin high-tailed it away, dropping the boulder on the cliff behind him. 

The first one, who’d been calmed, continued to wave for the better part of a minute as Caduceus urged the horses to run, pulling the cart at speed as they all tried to make the last of his spell worth it. The group all heard a collective noise, and their firbolg friend began to cackle, saying, “The Ettin said, ‘Hey, wait a minute.’ The jig is up!” But the group was too far away. As they cleared the area, the figure of the giant disappeared up and behind the cliff sides. When it was out of range, they let out a collective breath. The sigh of relief slowed down the horses, too, who seemed happy to carry the cart at a normal speed.

And then everyone started to laugh.

“Oh my god!” Beau and Fjord looked at each other, amazed. 

“Wizards,” Caleb said, poking Nott. “I just made him see his worst fears.”

“Simply amazing.” Molly said, grinning ear to ear. 

“Well done!” Nott poked him in the back, watching him twitch at the weird feeling of her nail digging into his spine. “Caduceus, that was amazing!” They all took a few moments to catch their breath, push down their fear, and think of the rest of the road ahead.

“Wait.” Beau hopped from the cart, running along side of it. “Do you hear that?”

“Shit,” Caleb murmured, looking at his tome. He knew that feeling. Something snapped. “It broke through.”

The group all looked at each other, and everyone sprung into action. Rowan didn’t seem to notice, since they were still squished into Caduceus’s cloak. “Let’s do this thing!” Nott screamed, standing up and yanking her crossbow free. She knocked back a bolt and fired, missing the closest Ettin. The second one hit, sinking into the creature’s flesh.

Beau dashed forwards, planting herself between the two Ettins and readied to defend, arms tensing. Caleb, sensing her action, pulled a component out from one of his pouches as he leapt off the cart, and suddenly Beau was twice her size. The group cheered as she grinned; the game was afoot. 

They all started to lay the hurt on thick, Beau keeping herself planted between the cart and the creatures, the others darting in as they saw fit. Molly and Jester used their casting more than their weapons, seeing as how the creatures were much too high up to reach. The divine lollipop swung around, glitter trailing to the ground along with ettin blood. Caleb kept his concentration, resorting to small cantrips and simple spells, keeping Beau in her enlarged state. 

As the creatures got closer, the group redoubled their efforts. Caduceus, the kid, and the cart continued to move forwards, drawing the battle out along the road. As Caduceus was busy trying to calm the horses, the kid leaped into the back of the cart. “Don’t—” he shouted, looking back, as they disappeared and reappeared on the other side.

Now was their chance. 

The kid pulled their box from their bag on the way there, sprinting off the cart and running forwards. One ettin was dead, lying in a heap of flesh and blood on the valley floor. Fifteen feet. They knew that number by heart. It was their biggest, best move. It could help. It would make them useful. Their magic could make them indispensable. They used up what little time they had, ran directly in front of the Ettin, and cast.

Their heart seized in their chest, pushing itself to their throat. Their silent lips commanded the weave to do it. To bend to their will. It was in their blood to do it. They needed this, more than they’d ever needed it before. Their fingers pushed and pulled at the threads of reality as their sheer force of will bent space around them. Arcane energy surged. Rowan felt the incantation pour from their fingers. In their blood, the adrenaline of arcane energy again coursed in their veins. In the back of their mind, their could hear the Nein screaming at them, the words not reaching them. Anger? Worry? Frustration? Excitement? They couldn't tell. Rowan’s mind and hands and lips were singularly focused on one thing. The weave. And with it-- magic.

And it worked.

Rowan stood just before the Ettin, looking it dead in the eye, just out of reach, and cast Thunderwave, the biggest and baddest spell they knew. A radius of energy thrust out from them in a great circle, flinging the Ettin back on his ass. They watched as the thunderous energy ripped through him; the creature screamed in pain. Their blood rushed in their ears as they felt feet pummel the ground from behind them, hands grab them, and someone pull them back and away from the creature. They saw a few strikes of a sword-- just a flash of silver in their eyes-- and the creature was dead on the rocky ground.

More words were spoken, and really… Rowan couldn’t hear. The rush of their heart pounded too loudly for anyone else. The weave around them began to settle, the feeling of the threads still rough against their fingers. They did it. They finally did it. Elation mixed with the realization that now… now they were more dangerous than before. For despite what their parents did, they could still hurt. They could still maim. Even without a voice in their throat, Rowan was dangerous. Their eyes, glazed over, blinked at the dead corpse of the Ettin. It was their fault. What had they done?

Hands. On their shoulders and arms, insistent hands that shook them a bit. The pressure brought them back to the world around them. “What the fuck did you do that for?” Beau asked, no longer twice her size. She glared at them, holding them firm. “You could’ve died!”

“Really, you could’ve,” Molly said, checking them. “What were you thinking? I mean… that was… Not going to lie, that was impressive but… the folly!”

Caduceus walked over, prodded the Ettins, and sighed. “At least they’re useful for something,” he said as he watched greenery that made no sense for the area start to overtake the bodies. Scrubby bushes budded forth, springing from under the bodies along with muted wildflowers and thorn-like branches.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Jester said, grabbing them tight. 

Fjord knelt down, looking at Rowan at eye level, and stared. He was silent for a while before sighing. “Thank you for helping, but that was a mighty big risk you took. They’re not lying— it probably would’ve gotten you killed, if it hadn’t have worked.” Looking over at Beau, he added, “Thankfully, Beau had a good reach, and was able to knock that guy out cold, grab you, and then dash back over.”

“What were you _thinking_?” Molly said.

The kid blinked, realizing tears were streaming down their eyes. Sniffling, Rowan held their box to their chest and waved a hand in the air. Words appeared as they cast Prestidigitation, silently, looking ashamed and afraid. _I just wanted to help,_ the words said, before they disappeared.

“You don’t need to help,” Nott said, putting a hand on their shoulder. They hiccuped, looking at her. “You’re just a kid. It’s not your job to fight.”

“No, it is not.” Caduceus crouched by them. “But thank you.”

Caleb sat down on the back of the cart, and sighed. There was an odd feeling in his chest as he looked at the kid, at the box in their hands. If silent casting could be learned, perhaps other things could be, too. Other things that nobody had done before. It would take time, and effort. But it could happen. Maybe... maybe he really did have a chance. “ _Ja_ , that was impressive.” He looked Rowan over, hope in his chest for the first time in a while. “What you just did? Nobody I know has been able to do that. Wizards and mages and sorcerers, with more years on them than you and I and everyone here, have not been able to do what you just did.” He paused, and gave them a wan smile. “Good job.”

“But really,” Molly said, taking them up in a sudden, deep embrace. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

They nodded, and let him soothe their hair down as they tried not to sob into his nice shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This one took me a while to edit, as I cut out a couple full scenes from Trostenwald. There wasn't any character development that strayed from the canon of Crit Role, so I made the executive decision to cut it.
> 
> That and it was kinda boring to retrace exactly what happened again.
> 
> (I'm not sure if this is D&D Canon or not, so I'll put this here; a way I've heard wizard magic working goes like this: wizards and arcanists can tap into the magic that is part of the 'weave,' or essentially what holds reality together. Bards can affect the weave with their magic, pulling out threads with coaxing. But wizards (as the main arcane spell caster) pull on the threads directly. The thought is that their somatic gestures would push and pull the weave around them, and create their magic. 
> 
> In this verse, verbal components are used in the form of language. Sign Language is a language-- it's in the name. Therefore, Rowan can learn to use both somatic and Sign components in their casting in order to affect the weave.
> 
> On a side note, I think Matt Mercer himself thinks this idea has merit. And would be a really interesting counter against the Silence spell, as that only affects vocalizations, not Sign Language.)


	5. On the Way to Nicodranus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the ettins, the Mighty Nein travels through the Menagerie coast, relishing the relaxed atmosphere. They find their way to the coast and take an afternoon off to play in the waves. Fjord asks a question and gets an answer.

There wasn’t much of a thought to linger after murdering the ettins; the pain and relative unsafety of the area made the Nein pause. Once patched up and healed enough, though, the group hopped on the cart and were off. It was another four and a half days until their destination, after all, so they moved on. But there was merriment among them all, a happiness that they did not get to experience often. Killing a few wily creatures was nothing compared to this. Compared to a small miracle. 

Caleb seemed a bit shaken, looking at the soot that covered his hands, but couldn’t help himself. He, too, felt glad. Though the gladness was met with resistance in the deeper, less conscious parts of his mind. After the shock wore off, the kid was just so ecstatic. They kept talking to the Nein with Prestidigitation, making the words appear in the air above their head. The child was so expressive with the words, too, making some appear bigger. Or tilted. 

He wondered if they were trying to emulate stress patterns in speech. Watching the words, he started to read them with the energy of a twelve-year-old’s, and realized they were happy. So very, very happy. Like Jester when she got fresh donuts. Or Molly when he saw a particularly gaudy piece of jewelry or clothing. Or when he himself found a stash of paper and inks in a dusty dungeon.

Their bright smile was enough to chase away his demons, for now.

All too soon, the kid was starting to tire. While he didn’t expect them to be so tired after using a cantrip, something that required no real power, he decided it was the excitement. It’d been too long for him to remember the first moment he cast. He’d long forgotten the first time when, as a child, he felt the arcane energy surge through him. The second time he’d learned as an adult, it was much weaker. But it was so good; it had filled him with a sudden, wonderful feeling after nothing for so long. 

For the next hour or so after the fight with the trolls, as the Nein chatted in the cart, the kid joined in with their magicked words. They didn’t seem phased, for the first quarter of an hour. After half an hour, they seemed a bit tired. And just as the group was starting to watch the sun slink behind the high cliff walls, they flopped over, asleep, their head rolling onto his lap. 

Oh.

As the mountains gave way to hills, and the sun set for the night, the group pulled away from the road and made camp. He prodded the kid awake, who sat up with energy before rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “Good nap?” He asked, understanding. Rowan nodded, tapping his arm and signing something. “Too tired to cast?” Their head bobbed again. “What did that sign mean? Can you spell it?” 

They signed a short word, and redid the original sign. “Ah, you do not need to be sorry.” They shook their head. “Can you explain?” They sighed, pushed a few loose locks from their face, and explained. He watched their signs, reading them all, and gave them a worn smile. “I, too, am sorry, then. I did not mean to push. I… it was not my place.” They nodded, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Yes, well.” Comfort from a child seemed especially odd, when it came from one who looked so sleepy. “I—I forgive you too.”

When they bedded down for the night, Nott asked, “What’s it like, casting again?”

The kid made a motion, and spelled it out. “So it’s stronger?” They nodded. “Wicked.”

“It’s very impressive, indeed.” Caduceus handed them a bowl of stew and a piece of bread. Beau gave them a piece of jerky and thanked the firbolg for cooking. “Oh, any time. I do enjoy it. It’s like making tea. There’s something soothing and meditative about it.” He ladled out a bowl for himself and added, “Three years of working on that, huh?” The kid nodded. “I wonder if anyone’s capable of it, if they apply themselves.”

“We can certainly try,” Caleb said, shrugging. “But I doubt most people who do not need to learn will not take the time to learn. That is a large ask, to dedicate one’s efforts to one thing for so long.” He paused, thinking. 

“Perhaps it is their age. Children learn faster than most, and are more creative in their thinking than adults.” He looked over to them, adding, “Even wizards hundreds of years old can learn a thing or two from you.”

The kid sat up straighter, pushing a loose hair from their eyes. A wide smile settled over their face, beaming in the firelight. They preened at the attention, not a care in the world as they all but vibrated with happiness.

“I have a question,” Molly asked, and the group all looked towards him. “Does this mean when you’re a super powerful wizard, that you’ll be impervious to the Silence spell?” The group went silent themselves, thinking. The kid shrugged, looking over at Caleb, who sent one back.

“I don’t see why not,” Beau said. “I mean, they’re still silent. Their hands do the casting. And those don’t make sound.” The kid clapped. Sending them a frustrated look, she lunged forward and grabbed their shoulders. With a look of surprise, and less than a second more, the kid was all but upside down and under Beau’s arm in a headlock. Grinning and noogie-ing the kid with her knuckles, she grumbled, “Most of the time.” The kid seemed undisturbed by the fact that she just kept her arm around their head. In fact, they seemed more than a little amused.

“When I learn it,” Caleb said, poking his food with his spoon, “We will test this. Agreed?” The kid nodded, pushing away Beau’s hand as they watched him. They wondered. How far away he was from something so powerful, so game-changing? It was hard to think that someone so low in skill could best something so effective. “I believe I am capable of casting it, but I need the instructions as to how.”

“I wonder how much more powerful you’d be,” Jester said, “If you didn’t have that three year gap.” The kid shrugged, but she looked at Caleb. “You’d probably be just as powerful as our stinky wizard!” She gave him a smile, and added, “When we get into town, both of you are having a bath.”

“Why, Jester, are you goin’ and insinuatin’ that the kiddo’s just as stinky as Caleb?”

“Yes, Fjord! They both look like they haven’t had a bath in forever!” She pushed Fjord’s shoulder with her arm, all playful, but he stumbled back a bit from sheer power. 

“Oh, let’s all have baths,” Molly agreed, rolling over onto his side to look at the kid. “Would you mind if I brushed out your hair? It might be a bit painful, but I’ll work slowly, I promise.” 

As they nodded, he hopped up, retrieved a little bag of items, and stared to work away. “You should let go, unpleasant one” he said on return, looking to Beau. He gestured to the headlock she held Rowan in. “I need the kid’s head more than you do.”

“Ya see, if I just squeeze a bit more, it’ll pop right off!”

The expression on the kid’s face made the group laugh. “No, heads don’t do that little one,” Caduceus said, patting them on the hand. “You’d need to sever the skin, muscles, and spine in order to pop a head right off.”

“Gruesome, Caddy.” Molly chuckled, patting the ground in front of him. “Please, spare the child!” 

First with a comb, then with a hairy brush, he undid the knots in their hair. The group talked around them, sometimes discussing their plans when in Nicodranas, of jobs they could do. The kid just relished the feeling of being happy. Of being well protected. Of— if they didn’t get their hopes up too far— being well loved. Or, at least, well liked. 

And as Molly worked through the knots in their hair, and piled up the tangled hairs that came loose from their head, the kid began to think— for the first time— about their future. Because, for once, it felt like they truly had one. The sea had been a pipe dream sort of a thing, after leaving. Ameile had read them stories of it— a great, big, glittering thing. So when she told them to run, that was the direction they decided on. Loosely enough. But now, it seemed like such a short term kind of thing.

The next morning, as the group began to set out, they saw a merchant caravan moving towards them. The quiet road trip filled with chatter as everyone peered out across the flat terrain. They saw metal cages, big and elaborate things, with wings and limbs contained within. Colorful feathers flashed in the sun.

It took a lot of restraint, on Molly’s part, not to buy the peacock. He stared at it, the feathers tattooed on his face mirroring the creature within the cage. It cried out at him— and that was it. Peacocks sound... too human to be a good thing. It sounded like a child calling for its parents. Nope. That just wouldn’t do. So he bought one of its feathers, shed a few days before, instead. What didn’t surprise him, though, is that Beauregard found the perfect bird.

The owl was ornery to say the least. It matched her expression, softly hooting in the sun as the merchant handed Beau a glove to wear. It flew to her hand, latching its giant claws into the glove. He winced— sharp talons like those are not fun to feel piercing the skin. 

“I’m getting the owl,” Beau said, displaying him. He hooted as she moved around, the bird’s head unmoving. “His name is Thaddeus. Professor Thaddeus.”

“What an odd name for a bird,” Molly mused, looking at it glare at him. 

What also did not surprise the Nein was Jester’s torn expression, staring at the whole herd of beasts before her. In particular, her eyes darted between a blink puppy— a cute thing that popped in and out of this plane with a little puff of fae magic— and a crimson weasel. The weasel was a small thing, which curled up in her hand as she held it. The noises of sheer pain of indecision were both adorable and hilarous.

“I— do I get the puppy? Or this cute, little weasel?” 

He waltzed over to her, saying, “Do what your heart desires. Get both.”

On the other side of the spectrum, Fjord coughed. “But remember, you’ve got to train that puppy, or he’ll poof out of existence and never come back. Plus, if they’re in combat…” He looked over at the weasel. “Will it even survive a single fireball?”

Offended at the thought that she would ever put her pets in harm’s way, Jester pouted. “Sprinkle can hide in my armor,” she decided, pulling out her purse to pay the merchant.

“I’ll go halfsies on the puppy,” Beau said, elbowing her. “We could teach him to fetch and shit.”

She gave Beau a sigh, staring at the puppy. Her eyes rested on the kid, wondering. Nott pulled alongside the other two, and whispered, “I think they can take care of themselves.” The trio turned to look at the kid, who was fixed in a staring contest with Prof. Thaddeus. The bird was winning. It turned its body around on the branch, still watching the kid with yellow eyes.

“Though,” Caleb said, pointing at the weasel, “One animal may be a good limit right now. In case of an emergency, we may need your strength to help the kid along. ”

“I could carry one under each of my arms! I’m super strong, you know,” she said. 

Beau pointed out, “Yes, but you’ll need one of those thick arms to fight and cast.”

Jester sighed, looking at the cute puppy. Its tongue was lolling out of its little mouth, pink and slobbery, as it stared with rounded eyes at her. Tearing her heart in two, she turned from the cart. “I think I’ll stick to Sprinkle, she said, nudging his head with her chin. “He’ll be easier to protect.”

“A good choice,” Fjord said, nodding to the merchant. The two groups made their way off, pets or purse in tow.

The rest of the day passed, with Beau attempting to train Thaddeus, and Jester feeding Sprinkle bits and bobs of pastries. The creature seemed happy with the sugar, nibbling on it. It whirled and curled around her horns, climbing from her shoulders into her hair. Giggling, Jester scooped him up and plopped him between her boobs and her armor. “There!” She declared, puffing her chest out to show the kid. “Now he’ll be safe!” They grinned.

“Hey. What do owls eat?”

“Rats!” Nott cried, pulling out a bit of jerky. “Give him this. But make him shake, first.”

“That’s for dogs, isn’t it?” Fjord asked, watching as Beau tried to establish dominance by glaring at her bird. A minute later, when the creature rotated its head around to stare at Nott, instead, she guffawed. It was force-fed a bit of jerky, looking unhappy the entire time.

While the Nein continued on the road to Nicodranas, the smell of salt grew in the air. Above, seagulls began swooping around, calling out to their brethren. The ocean was growing nearer. Each approaching day, even every hour, they could see a bit more of the sea. The band of glittering blue expanded to fill up most of the horizon, then encroached on the land. The air felt cooler as they took the cart off the road, aiming straight for the sandy shoreline. 

When they did reach the waters, pets in tow, it was magnificent. The sun shone on the sea, glittering in a way that beads or crystals or jewels could never achieve. Something that small could never compare to something so massive.

It stretched across their field of vision, surrounding them. The effect was different than the feeling of trees rising up beside them. The emptiness of the flat water, the air between it and the sky. The black blurs of gulls as they swooped down to pick up pin-prick fish from the surface. Fjord seemed to calm as the ocean on the horizon grew and neared. Jester, too, appeared to open up more, relishing the thought of the waters between her fingers. It made them feel freer.

It made Molly feel excited. Although he couldn’t remember if he’d ever been to the ocean, Mollymauk was ecstatic to find out if the stories he’d heard were true. Of the cold slap of the waves. Of the stinging feeling on fresh cuts. Of the briny taste when you accidentally gulped a large portion of salt water down. He’d heard so many wonderful and fascinating tales, and he was dying to try, to experience it for himself. 

It made some feel alone. The kid watched the waters with a wariness that Caleb reflected. And even though Caduceus was unsure, the whole area lacking anything that he could recognize, it was Nott who seemed most terrified. 

She stayed on land with the cart as everyone started to race— a mad dash into the breaking waves. The surf was gentle here, the sands warm in a comforting way. As the Nein began to throw off their clothing, Rowan felt hands cover their eyes. A reedy voice from behind them shouted, “Caleb! Put some pants on, there’s a child present!”

“ _Was_? Oh, _ja_.” He shimmied around a second on the sand, and kept his small clothes on. “Happy?”

“Enough,” Nott griped. "You all have fun in the water. I’m going to stay on solid ground.”

“See, I was wonderin’,” Fjord said, crouching down as he wiggled his boots off, “When we get into town, and stop by Jester’s mom’s place, will ya be sleeping with the boys or the girls?” 

“Oooh! Well, like, since Yasha isn’t here, it’ll probably be me and Beau in one room, and like, you and Molly in the other, huh? Caleb and Nott always take one room for themselves.” Jester undid the laces of her dress with careful but quick fingers. “It’s even. But now we’ve got you!”

“You forgot about Caduceus.” Beau pulled off her vest and shoved it into her pack. Jester made a face just thinking about the wrinkles it would have later. “So you can just, I don’t know, sleep with him?” She turned around and shouted at the firbolg already in the water; “Hey Caduceus! Can the kid stay with you in Nicodranus?”

“I don’t see why not,” He said, calm voice drowned out— for the most part— by the waves. He gave them a thumbs up.

“Well, that’s if ‘n’ when we have four rooms. When there’s three, Caduceus will probably stay with us, and the kid will go with you two.” Fjord folded his socks and stuck them into his boot. He really, really did not want sand everywhere. He knew its sins, and wanted nothing to do with them.

“I mean, like yeah, that makes sense.” Jester braided her hair and smiled. “Ready!” 

“Race ya,” Beau said, stretching.

“Last one in’s a smelly dick!”

“LANGUAGE” Nott screamed from behind a bush, sending a small group of seagulls flying. “FUCK— SHIT!”

“Language yourself,” Fjord shot back. He sat on the sand for a bit, looking out at the waves where the rest of the swimmers were. “I was just wonderin’,” he added, looking over at the kid— who was rolling up their trousers up to their knees, “Are you… ah… uncomfortable at all sleeping with Caduceus? Or with the girls?”

They stared at him, trying to figure out what that question meant. Shaking their head, they cast a quick questions themselves. 

“Oh, it’s just… Well, when I was a kid… back where I was raised, I never was allowed to spend much time in the girls’ rooms, if you’re catching my drift.” The kid shook their head. With a sigh, he continued, “‘Cause I was a boy.” Rowan just blinked at him. “And the girls weren’t supposed to spend a night in the boys’ rooms either.”

More blinking. Slowly at first, they opened their mouth in a round shape, eyes alight with understanding. _It’s ok. It’s not against the rules ‘cause I’m both. And neither. But not a boy or a girl._ They let the words hover in the air for a bit as they made their way to the break, relishing the feeling of the hot sand. It cooled as the water approached, the wateriness of it spilling out into little puddles around their footprints.

Rowan watched the sand fill back up with miniature tidal pools in the shape of their feet as they wandered across the beach. They did not pay attention to the group, except to keep them in earshot. So they did not see the complete and utter confusion on Fjord’s face. He just sat there, perplexed, before shaking his head and mumbling something to himself. They did hear the splash as he started to swim in the water, hell bent on annoying Caleb, who was still floating in the waters.

For a good while, they wandered. When they found a pretty shell, they'd stoop to pick it up. Or a piece of foamy sea glass, cracked from an unknown source but blue as cobalt. In the relative quiet of the waves, they realized that they’d wandered quite a ways away. When they turned back, they saw Jester waving at them as the rest of the party dried off. Behind her, Beau was shaking her head like a dog, the droplets catching the sun as they sprayed Fjord and Nott. Caduceus seemed just as wet as Caleb was, the firbolg’s fur sticking to his face just like Caleb’s hair did. Everyone seemed happy. Molly turned around, toweling off his hair, and called out to the kid.

It got lost on the breeze, but the kid knew what they were saying. Feeling the tide rush up to splash their legs, they started jogging back to the group, the shells closing with a soft click within their hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter (I believe?) compared to the others. It's been quite a long time since I've focused on the nautical portion of the Nein's travels, so I'll need to research and rewatch that part before I finalize the rest of the story. I legitimately skipped over that bit, and jumped straight to the tunnel to the Krynn Dynasty!
> 
> Time should start flowing faster, as the kid will not participate in many of the Nein's more difficult adventurers. As of this point, they are only level 1, and the difference in power level is significant. It'll be fun to see them aboard the ship, but since battles are not my forte, the story will be sticking to the stuff I do like writing-- character interactions!
> 
> (Please let me know if my italics are not working. I suspect copy/pasting them in is not enough, but as I am not used to the format of Ao3, I would like some assistance...)


	6. The Ruby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a wonderful afternoon resting at the sea, the nine members of the Mighty Nein arrive in Nicodranas and meet the Ruby of the Sea.

The ride to the Lavish Chateau was filled with stories of Jester’s girlhood and of relaxed murmurs. Most of the Nein were walking beside the cart, eyes fixed on the ocean more so than the road. Rowan laid their head against the edge of the cart, watching the way the sparkles seemed to shift with the group. It was quiet enough to hear the faraway waves. Beside them, Caleb sat reading a book next to Fjord, who pulled his head out from under a towel and grinned. “I must commend you,” Fjord said, looking over at Caleb, whose hair was still damp from the sea, “A lot of people are trepidatious in the face of a force of nature such as this.” He let a lazy hand flow across the edge of the horizon, grazing the shimmering waters. 

“It’s expansive,” he breathed, ruffling his hair to knock some water off. “It just keeps going on forever.”

“You took to it well.” The two fell silent for a while. 

They’d learned, over the course of traveling with the Mighty Nein, that some silences were good. The silence of a forest— loud with chirping birds and rushing waters and rustling leaves— was good. The silence of a cooking fire— where everyone is quiet but the sound of crackling and clinking fills the air. That was good. And this, too, must be good.

Closing his book with a small snap, Caleb turned his face to the sea and asked, “Why did you leave it?” When nobody responded, he kicked Fjord’s foot with his own and asked, “Do you miss it?” 

“Do you think you’d go back?”

With a sigh, Fjord tore his eyes from the waters to watch Caleb’s expression. “Well, I didn’t leave it intentionally. I tried to make my way back, or up north, to learn about the sword. It feels good to be back.” Adding a grin, he continued, “I’d live right on the water if I could. I’ll take care of what I need to take care of. I think a calm life on the water would suit me just fine.”

Rowan tried to imagine Fjord, as an old half-orc with graying hair, living like they did. Right after they’d left their own home and ran away. Back in the darkness of the Cyrengreen Forest. Back with Ameile. 

“Yeah, see that doesn’t sound like you,” Mollymauk said, leaning against the cart. He propped his head in his hand, still walking alongside the trio. How he did that, and looked suave the whole while, was beyond anyone’s wildest guess. “What sounds more like you, though, is getting a boat and sailing off into the sunset.”

“Don’t ya think that’s more for Jester and her stories?” Fjord grumbled, shoving Molly off the cart. “What’s up with Nott and the water.” He ignored Molly clambering into the cart and asked, “Do you have any idea?”

“She does not like to swim,” Caleb deflected, shrugging. “I imagine seeing something like this… from her perspective…” He hopped off the cart as he trailed off.

“It smells weird,” Caduceus interjected, ever the captain of the cart. Turning around to give the group a smile, he added, “I like it.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed like that. There was a closeness and a distance, with the water just in sight. As the group followed along the road, it seemed to tempt and to guide. People hopped in and out of the cart in tides, leaving Rowan alone at times and crowding them at other points. _Are they really going to leave me? Ask Marion to find someone and just go without me?_ Staring up at the lazy clouds sauntering around in the bluest of skies, they decided that maybe-- maybe they would. But Rowan would do their darndest to stop it. 

Contentedness was not a thing they’d felt… ever. Even with Amelie there was always the threat of being found, of being sent away or taken home. Nowhere in their waking memory was this kind of wonderful calm feeling, nowhere this sense of accomplishment. Maybe in the early days, when they were still learning the basics of magic in the village. But she was never happy, Amelie, always thinking of refining and tuning. So Rowan was never happy.

Staring over at the group, a thought occurred to them. Between the clamor of the group— who were discussing Caduceus’s jellyfish-like pink hair, Molly’s love of burying his legs in the sand to make a mermaid tail, and other chatter— they could imagine quiet afternoons in a book-covered study. Texts open on side tables, the a wizard’s spellbooks and a sorcerer's components sitting side-by-side. Red hair leaning into their peripheral vision to point at a page of text, to compare theory and practice. Frumpkin would climb onto the kid, making biscuits in their lap. A fire would crackle, fighting a gentle battle with the softness of the rainy day. The others would be chatting in the next room, comfortable background noise in a comfortable scene.

Rowan blinked, and the thought was gone. No, the Nein were adventurers. And they had no responsibility to a random, unskilled child. They were being foolish. There was no reason anyone in the Mighty Nein would want to keep them. They would talk to Marion and that would be that.

They wouldn't have a magic tutor because they need to keep that a secret, too. They would just have to figure it out for themselves. 

“No,” Caleb said, a wistful timbre to his voice, “It’s just… it’s just a good day.”

“Here, here,” Molly agreed, hopping out of the cart for a stretch. “And we’re almost on the gates now.” A flourish of his hand drew the group’s attention to the wall that rose up above them. It stretched past the sands, cutting a straight line through the tide. Waves crashed against the stone leaving foam on the mortar. Ducking out of sight, Jester changed her appearance and hopped up next to Caduceus on the cart. 

Grouped by the large portcullis, six Zolezzo guards in mismatched armor stared at the approaching figures of the Mighty Nein. With the blues and greens, however, the differences came across more as individual preference and personal expression rather than lack of funds. The figures tensed at the sight of the cart silhouetted by the setting sun, and Rowan tensed back. The days on the road, free and undeterred by the thought of guards or patrols, had come to an end. The light made it easy to see that the cart was not a welcome sight— and the gate was closed. 

Caleb, Nott, and Rowan all slipped beneath the cart’s enchantment, a rainbow of eyes watching as the group rolled close enough to gather fine details. The adults stared at the child, who acted more disturbed than Beau did— and she was a confessed criminal.

“Halt!” A Zolezzo commanded, stepping up to the cart. “What is your business in Nicodranas?” 

Excited, the human-looking Jester piped up, “We’ve come to see the Ruby of the Sea perform… tonight!” With a giggle at their surprised looks, she shouted out a laugh.

The Zolezzo nearest to them, pulling aside a layer of chain mail that flowed in front of his eyes, blinked at the visible members of the Nein all arranged around the cart. A cart, which appeared to be carrying merchant goods. A cart, which carried passengers who seem distinctly… not wealthy. “The Ruby of the Sea?” he repeated, tone level and calculating.

“Yeah!” 

His eyes slid over the group’s rough and salty faces to look at Jester, who beamed with familial pride. Sending a final smile his way, he yielded. “Alright. And where do you hail from?”

“We hail from Port Damali,” she gushed, before realizing her folly. In the cart, and behind the enchanted disguise, Caleb put his head in his hands. 

Rowan sent Nott a confused look. With a whisper both the volume and tone as creaking wood, she explained, “It’s on the other side of the city…”

Outside the enchantment, she stood her ground. Jester just kept on bouncing along, answering the question of her name as… “Fiona Fancypants. Theatre critic extraordinaire!”

That one did not seem to stick. Stepping down from the box at the front, Fjord opened his mouth, but the guard spoke before he could. “I apologize. There is no entrance on this side of the gates after dark. You need to go around.” When Jester hemmed and hawed about the timing of her mother’s performance, the Zolezzo admitted, “Then you’ll need to make you way through the gates some other way.”

He held out a hand. Fjord opened his mouth a second time, but Jester just plopped five gold pieces into his tanned palm. She nodded to him, and sent the whole group a giggle as the guard returned to help raise the portcullis. 

The harbor was busy, to say the least. Throngs of people rushed by, carrying all kind of nautical equipment. Small buildings and harbor huts jutted out with the peer as it pierced the darkening ocean. Sand and stone interrupted the waves, holding huge ships steady in the rocking waves. Warm, orange and yellow torches shone in the colorful evening sky, flames flickering as groups passed by. Everyone was hustling somewhere or another. The only ones standing still were the Zolezzo. 

Rowan froze again, looking at all the guards. They stared, openly, as one passed from lantern to lantern, using a long rod to light the oil within. Guards at the gate were one thing. That was understandable to their ten-year-old mind. But _in_ the city? Wasn’t it protected enough?

The Open Quay greeted the adults with a hullabaloo that cheered them up. Cities meant places to visit, jobs to do, interesting things to witness. The cart trundled by a lighthouse that seemed to entrance Caduceus, of all the starry-eyed folk. His pink face turned to look at an enormous woman, whose torso emerged from the stonework to stare into the royal waters. As the lighthouse’s beam wove around in circles, it faded for a moment to light up the figure’s eyes, only to whip around with her cascading hair. “The Wild Mother,” Caduceus breathed, looking more awestruck than Rowan had ever seen before.

“Wonder how long it’s been there,” Molly mused.

As the crowds gathered, the group stuck to close to the cart. “Well,” Jester said, thinking. “As long as I’ve been alive!”

“And how long is that,” Caleb asked. 

She shot him a look. “You want to know how old I am?” Smirking, she added, “I thought it was obvious!”

The group turned to her, shaking their heads. Despite her cheerful presence and bubbly personality, Jester had strength. There was a raw power in her, not unlike Yasha’s. “Somehow, you’re both older and younger than the kiddo,” Beau grumbled, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yeah! For all you know, I’m twelve!”

“If you’re twelve, with arms like that,” Nott said, her eyes narrowing, “I’d eat my shoes.”

As they continued, cutting almost northward through the city, Jester gasped. “It’s an opal archway! So, like, there are 11 of them in all, and like— they used to be the walls of the old city. Back when Nicodranas was super tiny. And now the city’s really big and all, so it’s just the fancy part of town. There’s like, political people and wealthy people and diplomats and some of the stores for the stinky, rich people.” Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “A different kind of stinky, Caleb. You’re stinky ‘cause of dirt. They’re stink ‘cause they’re not good people.” 

He didn’t know how to respond, and so turned a bit pink. 

But Jester kept up her wonderful and ridiculous history lesson as the cart started to roll from rough streets and onto cobblestones. The oil lanterns from the Open Quay gave way to magical lights, great and vibrant baubles that hung above doorways and near the road. The globules shifted, swaying in an invisible but gentle breeze, the colors shifting. Here warm, here cool. All of them seemed independent of each other. Yet it brought a unity to the place, the ever evolving contrasts and compliments washing over the fancy folk.

Who were wearing fancy clothing, of course. Jester sighed, a wistful sound, as she explained how everyone’s clothes were a mishmash of all the different cultures around them. How she missed certain fabrics— “Crushed velvet is so nice, but it’s not, like, great for on the road. You know?”

She kept up the friendly chatter, talking about how much she loved her city, while the kid sunk further into the cart. There weren’t just Zolezzo now. The familiar fear that shot up their spine hit them again. From beside a particular house peaked the red, matching armor of the Crownsgaurd. “Since Nicodranas is so close to the Empire,” Jester explained, pointing them out, “It’s a pretty popular place for them and the Clovis Concord to make treaties and stuff.”

“What happens if you’re caught doing something illegal by the Empire’s rules, but not by Nicodranas’s?”

“Um…” She turned to Molly and sighed. “Like, technically… they can take you away. But it’s not really a thing.”

“It’s a courtesy,” Fjord clarified. “They’re here so often, the higher-ups don’t want their guards to start getting lazy.” 

“And, like, so many people come from the Empire to visit, ‘cause the ocean’s so beautiful. But you know what’s more beautiful! My mom!” 

“I feel a little underdressed,” Caduceus muses, looking at everyone’s attire around them. Though the scent of salt is heavy in the air, there was a certain kind of crustiness that came from wandering into the ocean while you’re wearing your single set of clothes. 

“I can steal stuff for you.”

“You can,” Jester grumbled, looking at Nott, “But the rules are held a little stricter down here.” Rowan gulped, thinking of the strict enough rules in the North. 

Nodding, Fjord said, “Anything from pick pocketing to murder would give you quite a large fine and lots of jail time. Anything in between.”

“What about mail fraud,” Beau asked, a memory surfacing. “You’re all accomplices you know; you’re part of the problem.”

“Don’t fuck with the postal service,” Fjord suggested, seriousness lacing his expression. The kid giggled a bit at that, leaning into the Nein. They’d be safe. They hadn’t done anything yet; Rowan wasn’t sure if their magic was something they’d be arrested for, now that they weren’t in the Empire. A thought dawned on them. _Is it even illegal, or just… bad?_

“Look!” Jester called, pointing at a large building. It stood tall and thin, almost blending into the sky with its sky blue paint. The windows shone in the setting sun, gold leafing reflecting the sunset rays. Cerulean curtains opened to reveal stained glass windows, the fabric fluttering in the breeze. It seemed like both a shifting kaleidoscope of colors and a mirror of the ocean now far off. Soft music wove its way down the street to the group. “The Lavish Chateau!” She sang, hopping from the cart.

“Do we need to pay to get in?” Fjord asked, brushing his tunic as he stood from the cart. 

“No,” Jester pouted. “I never had to.”

“Well you lived there.”

She turned to Nott, who was now appearing as a simple dwarf dwarfed by a muumuu, and shrugged. “So it’s probably free. It wasn’t a hotel for me. We had the top floor.”

“Under normal circumstances, though, this is a hotel.”

“Well, yeah, Caleb. I’m in disguise, but they would know me. Even in disguise they know me.” At a few trepidatious looks, she added, “I just recast it.”

With that settled, the group all fluffed up their own appearance— save for the kid, who had nothing nicer to wear than what they had on— and went inside. Beau checked Professor Thaddeus at the door with a young boy named Tirall for 5 gold. He stared, openly, at the glinting coins in his hand and seemed pleased enough with the price.

When the others walked through the door, the kid hid between Caduceus— still tall despite his human form— and Caleb. Their hands slid up, pinching the mens’ sleeves as though to hold them from floating off. The room was enormous, high-ceilings sporting four, crystal chandeliers. Polished silver twinkled in the flickering candlelight, the flames guttering as servers swept through the dozen tables below. The low chatter of quiet conversation mixed in with the background music, a soft and sweet melody that seemed to go nowhere yet calmed all the same. The Nein found an empty table and rushed it, picking up the bits of fruit and cheese while they ordered wine. 

“Two milks!” Jester shouted as the server turned to leave, pointing at herself and Rowan. “I used to run up and down those stairs,” she declared, pointing to the ginormous staircase that split into a Y-shape near the top. “Late at night,” she added, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Fiona,” Fjord interjected, harping on the word as a musician would his instrument, “Do you recognize anybody in this room?” The group cast about glances, looking between heads and over shoulders. “You do? Who?” Though his expression darkened a bit, he kept a polite half-smile plastered over his lips. 

“None of them have been upstairs with my mom,” she told them, waggling her eyebrows as she whispered, loudly, “If you know what I mean.”

Tilting their head to the side, Rowan signed something quickly. It felt weird, not using their magic now that they had it. But when there were so many Crownsguard and Zolezzo around… Some things were best left silent. “She’s a lady of the night,” Mollymauk said, his voice awestruck and respectful. Yet, Rowan’s expression remained confused.

“She’s the best lay ever!” Hopping from her seat with a song under her breath, she giggled. “You all stay here, I’m going to go up and see my mom. She comes from those stairs, you know, so turn your chair around.” She pointed at Caleb, Caduceus, and Beau, who were focused more on the other patrons than on the Ruby of the Sea’s grand entrance. “Bye!”

Keeping an eye on the door, Rowan watched as more and more people filtered through the door. The tables began to fill up, forcing fancy folk in fancy finery to stand in the back. A few tried to take the table— or so Fjord patiently explained. Impatiently, Beau said they were dumbasses trying to use their status or influence to snag the table they’d already snagged. And so Rowan watched as they wandered off into the corners of the room, the Nein undaunted and uncaring. 

As Jester returned, just as the doors were closing and the room quieting, Beau asked, “Do you recognize those two… um—” She froze, eyes falling the kid. Their face was turned to the group in question, eyeing the people there with unrelenting nervousness. “Stuffy… pants… people?”

She gestured at a table flanked by two Zolezzo guards. Between the guards sat an odd couple, dressed in clothes more suited for the cooler Dwendalian weather. A human woman—her bright hair pulled back in a way that made it cascade down her shoulders— conversed low with a much older man. The way she moved made the jewels around her neck sparkle. The way he moved belied his age and status. 

“Nope!” She shrugged, taking a seat with a clear view of the steps. “I never got to watch from down here! I was always up there, listening to her from the hall.” 

The musicians transitioned their song from something negligible to something more. It filled the space, the sound catching the kid by surprise. It’s not like anything they had ever heard. The small town where they grew up had music and musicians, yes. But with little lutes and reedy flutes. This music was grand. Grand enough to match the slow footsteps that followed the sound curling down the staircase. 

Jester’s mother— a tall, beautiful tiefling with reddish skin and horns that mimicked her high cheekbones— began to sing. Her voice was warm and strong and lovely. They had no idea what she was saying, and the didn’t care. Rowan couldn’t help but watch everything she did, from the way her hand trailed on the banister, to the way she stepped toes first. 

The lights of the candles seemed to grow and shift with the emotion of her song. The orange and yellow illuminated her soft smile as she started to work her way through the crowd. She moved through the throng of people, now more than fifty members all transfixed by her performance, tapping some on the shoulders and singing directly to others. She gave Jester a quick ruffle of her hair, then turned to sing to the group for a moment. 

Rowan felt their eyes connect and they looked down. It was too much. There was so much there, behind those beautiful eyes; so much they didn’t understand. They listened to the rest of the song, wilting a bit as the music rolled to a close as she stepped her way back up the stairs. 

“Bravo!” Mollymauk cheered on his feet and looking over at the kid. “You alright? She’s just too gorgeous for words,” he whispered, sighing. “I can understand why you’d overload on such sheer beauty.”

In awe, Beau just sang under her breath, “Jester’s mom has got it going on…”

“Are you like, in love with her now?” Jester asked, amusement obvious. She flickered a look around the group as everyone explained how yes, they thought her gorgeous. But none of them denied Jester’s question. Save the kid, who shook their head. “Well that’s fine, ‘cause you’re like… ten.”

“Do you ever,” Fjord asked, looking between Jester and the staircase, “Do you ever wish you could do what she does?”

“You mean be graceful and poised, and sing really well, and have a bunch of people who love her,” she clarified. “No!” Her answer caught the group off guard as she laughed. “I like myself. Just the way I am.”

“I—” Beau cut in, looking a tad bit shy, for once, “I think you’re pretty and graceful. And pretty graceful.”

“Your singing voice is nice,” Fjord allowed.

“You’ve heard her sing?” Mollymauk asked, looking a bit surprised. “Must’ve been before I’d met you.”

“Our first show,” Caleb explained.

“Do you want to spend time with your mother?” Fjord asked, looking at the group. “I know we’d all love to meet her.” He didn’t notice as the kid’s eyes went wide at the thought. 

‘ _They're going to ask to send me away_ ,’ they thought.

Waggling her eyebrows again, Jester said, “Oh yeah! I’d love to! Usually after the performance.. her time is filled with… other things.” The waggling intensified as a man stomped down the stairs, muscularity and roughness belying a character deeper than the fine clothing he wore. Jester smirked as she saw the scowl and anger on his weather-worn face. “Looks like he got turned away! She’s got like a wait list, but she’s usually only with a few people at a time. Like if a diplomat comes in he might take up all of her time for like, a week or more.” With a proud expression, she added, “Then nobody else can come to see her.”

“But like, don’t worry! We had tons of mother-daughter time together.” She began counting on her fingers, saying, “Sometimes she’d come to tuck me into bed really late at night. Sometimes we’d wake up and we’d have breakfast and sometimes we’d not. And sometimes she’d be gone ‘cause she was away. And sometimes she’d have lunch.” She brightened. “I can send a message! Or… tell you what.” She hopped up from her chair, turned around, and rushed up the stairs.

In a moment, she was back. “She said, ‘I’m not taking any suitors tonight; my daughter and the super cool people who kept her safe are, like, way more important than any men who want to pay for my company.’” 

* * *

The rest of the night went as expected; lovely conversation with a beautiful woman who cared about every member of the Nein. She lavished kind words on everyone, mentioning traits she remembered Jester messaging her about. How Beauregard is quick and smart. How Fjord is brave and charismatic. Caduceus’s kindness and patience featured. Molly practically preened when they compared horn jewelry.

When she turned to the kid, they found their eyes casting to the ground again. It wasn’t that they were shy. Not necessarily. The just couldn’t. “I’ve heard from Jester,” Marion said, her voice quiet and soft. Panic laced up Rowan's nerves. _Was this the moment they'd say goodbye?_ “That you are the newest addition to the Nein.” She looked around, remarking, “And now you are truly, also, nine.”

“We… Actually, they found us in the forests just south of Zadash.” Fjord gave them a little pat on the hand. He wasn't sure why Rowan was staring at their worn boots instead of the Ruby, but he didn't question it. 

“Fate saw it fit for our paths to align,” Caduceus said in his sage way.

“Indeed.” With a gentle pat to the kid’s hands, Marion added, “I am glad it did. You seem like a smart child.”

Still not looking at her, Rowan cast a glance to Caleb. He was a wizard. He was a better wizard than they were. And they trusted his judgement when it came to the arcane. They flashed him a quick question, fingers wiggling free of Marion’s gentle hold. “I think it would be alright,” he mumbled back. Catching on, Beau elbowed them. Molly gave them a grin.

With a few quick movements, words hung in the air. “I am too.” They paused, waiting for Marion to understand. 

She did, quick as can be, and squeezed their hand in her own. “That… is fantastic! Such a wonderful skill, for someone so young! I’ve never heard of a magician who could do that.”

“Some sorcerers can, but it is taxing. The kid, however, does not seem to tire as quickly So it is even more impressive.” Caleb cast them a fond look as they blushed a bit under their collar.

After that, they stayed out of the limelight. It was infinitely more comfortable to watch Marion talk to the Nein about things that they'd done. Stories of all kinds were traded, until the night grew too late for Rowan to keep their eyes open. 

"Now would be a good time to go to bed," Nott said, elbowing Beau in the arm and pointing at the kid. 

"Oh yeah," she agreed, mustering up a terribly-timed fake yawn. "So beat. It was good to meet you," she said, looking to Marion with a small blush.

Standing, the Ruby smiled. "And you all as well. I've taken the liberty of preparing a few rooms for you all— my treat. Please stay here as long as you'd like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It took me quite a long time to post another chapter. The usual excuses apply: I was holidaying with my family on another continent, work started to pile up, my usual DM responsibilities, attempting to have a life... plus I fell ill for about two weeks and was quite morose. 
> 
> That being said, I may have a beta reader! Which will be excellent, seeing as how I've forgotten a character's name already. And I found a few typos in the posted chapters I had to fix already. Oh well. Shrug it off.
> 
> Chapters will be slow-going, as I have to re-watch old episodes to remember exactly how this next arc will go down... it's been a long time since I've touched on the sailing the Nein did, and so have forgotten all the intricacies of their adventure. But now that things are quieting down at work, I should have more time to dedicate to listening and writing!


	7. The Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the... most interesting day in Rowan's life. At least, so far. Join them as they tour the Mother's Lighthouse and brave the Sluice Weave.

Rowan wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to bed that night. They remembered the Nein discussing some guy in Zadash named ‘The Gentleman.’ How he was drippy and gross. They’d never met the guy, so couldn’t really follow the conversation. As the group discussed something that made them all very excited, the kid started to nod off. They remember someone— probably Caduceus, by the soft fur— placing an arm around them and then… their memories went black.

The morning, though, was bright. Rubbing their eyes as they sat up, they blearily stared at the room. Loose, gauze curtains blew in the overcast morning. The smell of salt was still strong on the air— they must still be in the Lavish Chateau. Rowan half expected someone to be sitting there, watching the clouds roll by through the gold-leafed windows. But the room was silent.

 _How early was it? How late was it?_ They flung their body to the side, a ball of nerves rolling to the ground. Their hands and knees smacked onto soft carpeting. Yet all they felt was a small sliver of ice that flowed through their body. _Where is everybody?_ They saw their bag, their box, their boots. Wheeling around to face the room, they froze.

There, against the doorway, was Caduceus’s staff. The crystal at the top glinted in the morning light. A wave of calm threatened to knock them back onto the mattress. _They didn’t leave me,_ they chanted in their mind, over and over until it started to flow from their fingers. It hovered in the air around them, a swarm of letters all trying to keep the terror back.

Among the overcast sky, they saw a storm brewing. A new, terrible routine was forming.

See, they usually didn’t feel alone. Though the Nein wasn’t the most familial bunch, Rowan didn’t suspect they’d be left behind. It was easy to quash that thought down. On the road, there was no choice. 

Nobody would leave a little kid behind. Not when there were ettins or wolves or hags about.

Plus, before everyone went to sleep, someone would offer Rowan their blanket. Or the kid would fall asleep leaning against someone. Or they’d just wake up without knowing when they fell sleep. Mornings weren’t a problem while the Nein was on the road; packing made so much noise. In a way, they guessed beds were too comfortable for the small noises of life to wake them up.

The last thing they wanted— when every guard made their body tense with worry— was to be left behind. 

With a steadying breath, they grabbed their pack, kicked on their shoes, and followed the sounds of people down the hall.

Downstairs, they found the Nein around a table, eating breakfast as they discussed plans for the day. When they scooted an extra chair to add to the table, Molly gave their hair a ruffle as the group kept chatting. It was all about that lighthouse, or the docks, or about someone named ‘Algar.’

Yet another person they did not know. _Another sign, maybe, or just coincidence?_ Rowan put their hands on the edge of the table, resting their chin on their knuckles. There was a bowl of fruit at the center of the table. They decided to glare at it.

“You fell asleep, and we didn’t want to wake you,” Caduceus explained, folding his long body in half to look down at the kid with a soft smile.

When they shook their head, Caleb offered, “Algar is someone who’s been bothering Jester’s mother.” That got their attention. Rowan sat up, propping their head on their hands. 

“Yeah, and like, you don’t fuck with moms, okay?” She added, puffing her bottom lip out. “It’s totally not cool.”

“For someone who has had the luxury of a good mother,” Molly said, “yes, definitely. We’ll help protect her, too.” He grabbed a few bits and pieces of breakfast and slid a plate to Rowan. “Eat up, kiddo. You never know when you’ll have food this good again.”

So they did. They were volunteered to join the lighthouse group, along with Caduceus, Jester, Nott and Caleb. Molly decided someone smooth had to join Beau— to even her out. Rowan wasn’t sure if that was why Fjord decided he needed to spearhead that trio… or if it was solely because he _used_ to be a sailor. 

Which was news to them.

While the quintet walked towards the Mother’s Lighthouse, the kid started to think. _Who in the world are these people?_ Beau mentioned Mollymauk hadn’t been himself two years ago. Apparently, Yasha had found him, and then he’d joined their circus. Though, the idea of Yasha being part of the same circus as Mollymauk was… interesting. Caleb and Nott seemed to be a pair, what with how they broke Fjord’s apparent rule that boys go to sleep with boys, and girls with girls. Married people did that. But Rowan didn't see a ring, so they weren’t married. Were they just really good friends?

Beau was easier. She admitted to joining the Cobalt Soul, and to the stealing around while she was a teenager. Her childhood was still a blank mystery. As was Caduceus’s. He mentioned a cemetery and a large, extended family. Yet he never mentioned them outside of pointed questions. Fjord was like that, too, though the lack of surname made them think maybe he didn’t have a family, either.

Jester was the most open of them all, and for good reason; if Rowan had grown up with a mother like the Ruby, they’d still have their voice. All those possibilities, all because of their parents’ choice. 

Lost in thought, they nearly bumped into Caleb as the group stopped before the lighthouse to talk to someone inside. 

“Can I help you?” A reedy voice followed by beedy, black eyes stares out at them through a slot in a thick, wooden door. 

“Are you Gladys?” Caduceus asks. At her assent, he continues, “I think we’re supposed to talk. My name’s Caduceus Clay. Mother sent me.”

A bit confused at whose mother sent whom, the kid followed them inside in any case. It was darker inside the lighthouse, but still grand. The woman, on the other hand, was about half the height of the window she’d peered through. She crossed burly arms over her leather apron, the lack of sleeves on her working dress both highlighting her age and her fitness. “So, you invoked the Mother. I assume you are a follower of hers?”

“I am.” Caduceus kept grinning. “This is a long and complicated story, I suppose. We’ve been holding the north against something dark. Something that threatens our temple. Have you ever been to the Blooming Grove before?”

“I cannot say that I have,” Gladys responded. The kid, too, was equally uncomprehending. Is this Blooming Grove the cemetery that Caduceus grew up at? He hadn’t mentioned to the kid that it was under attack. Darkness seemed… bad.

“It’s alright. This has been the first sign of the Mother since leaving home,” he said, looking around the inside of the lighthouse. 

“I’m so glad she’s been a beacon to you, like she has for many who’ve passed through Nicodranas.”

“She’s a _really_ big beacon,” Jester said, eyebrows playing. 

“Her temple is under threat up north.” Caduceus ignored Jester’s gestures, specifically about the statue’s large boobs. “I was waiting for a sign. And I think this is the sign.”

“Perhaps her guidance is going to be very useful to you, in seeking out a way to cleanse this temple you speak of.” Gladys shot a calm look to the firbolg, but started to glare at Jester and her antics.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. My friends and I—” he gestured at the group, “It’s only fitting… is there any service we can provide for letting us into your lighthouse?”

“I can’t guarantee admittance to the top of the lighthouse.” She crossed her arms, shooting a look at Jester, then down to Rowan. They gave her a silent wave, still more preplexed rather than surprised or afraid. The black eyes flowed past her to stare at Nott.

“Do you sleep in the boob?”

“No.” She looked back to Caduceus, her eyes passing over Caleb for a moment. “I don’t know if I can be of much help to you. I am but a simple mistress of the tower.” Yet she led the group all the way to the top observatory, discussing this Algar and his comings and goings. 

Still unclear as to what he did to deserve the Nein’s apparent wrath, Rowan turned instead to the view. They’d never been this high up before. And with the glittering waves below, it was a sight to behold. Up where they saw through the statue’s eyes, Caleb began pointing out the distant Syrios Mountains, the jungles that swept up the Ashkeeper Peaks, the galleons of different makes from far beyond the continent. He pointed out one of Marquesian make, of the Empire, of Port Damali’s. Even below, Rowan’s eyes fell on the silt-covered remains of sunken ships that called the harbor their final resting place. 

They were just tall enough to rest their chin on the ledge, hands protecting their face from the cold metal supports that held up the roof. It was refreshing, to feel the sea breeze begin to warm as the marine layer burned off in the sunlight.

“This is my home,” Gladys supplied, watching as the group stood, awed by the sights.

“Do you get a lot of visitors here?”

“Not really.”

“Why dont’ people come to see you? It’s so cool up here.”

Shrugging, Gladys said, “Kind of prickly.” Smirking, she added, “If your friend with the pink hair weren’t here, I wouldn’t have let you in.” Turning to Caduceus, who stood in the center of the room comparing his staff to a three and a half foot diameter crystal that glowed, she explained, “It is my responsibility to invoke the mother’s blessing of the stone. Each day. And have it’s light guide ships back to shore.”

“I have my own responsibilities to her, as well,” Caduceus said, balancing his weight on his staff.

“I can tell just by looking at you. I can smell decay on you.” 

See, Rowan would’ve called Cadueus’s smell salty, since the Nein’s most recent bath was in the ocean, but they guessed that an old lady like this probably knew what she was talking about. 

“This place, it’s so different. Was it perhaps a gift from the Law Bearer long ago?”

“How very astute of you. It was at a time when their temperments were less in conflict,” Gladys began, giving a brief history of the now less-than-friendly gods and goddesses. Rowan just kept watching the ocean, their eyes following the patterns of the waves. 

There was one spot where the waters seemed to tunnel under the ground. The bubbles on the surface seemed to get sucked into somewhere. They tilted their head, watching, just to make sure it wasn’t something they imagined. Nope, there it was again. A wave would come, break against part of the docks, and then the bubbles would act all weird. 

As the group clumped up to discuss the Sluice Weave with Gladys, Caleb noticed the kid flapping their hand. A sign, not one easily noticed, for someone’s attention.

“ _Was_?” He asked, stepping up to look. Rowan pointed out the spot where the waves went weird, and he smirked. “Grandmother, you mentioned he worked underneath the harbor. Is that, per chance, a part of the Sluice Weave?”

Gladys pulled herself up to stare at the spot the kid indicated, and smirked. “Aye, it is. Good eye on this one. Real quiet, too. The harbor has protectors, and has for many generations. They exist beneath the waters of this city. It’s part of how the Sluice functions. I believe this ‘Algar’ person you mentioned works in some sort of… managerial position there.”

“Do we have to swim?” Nott asked, squinting at the sea. 

“Probably need a small boat or something. But if you go there, and don’t have approval, you’ll probably be arrested.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Caleb said, ruffling Rowan’s hair as he turned to stare at the crytsal again. 

“Are you a goblin?” Gladys asked, point blank, as she turned to face Nott.

“Do I look like one? People tell me I look like one.” She paused, awkward for a moment. “Uh… I am a goblin.”

“And you’re working with these people?” She asked, turning to gesture to Jester and Caleb and Caduceus. 

“They’ve seen past my hideous features to—” she was interrupted by all the Nein telling her she was, in fact, not as ugly as she believed. “I may be ugly on the outside, but on the inside—” everyone pushed past the negativity to tell her she was beautiful there, too. 

“It’s something we’ve got in common. You think I’m in here ‘cause I’m a spinster?” Gladys gave her a sharp grin. 

“You look… relatively normal.”

“Hah! Fooey.” 

“You could snap me like a twig,” Caleb mused aloud.

“I think I could, too.” 

And though Caduceus tried to ask her for help with the Blooming Grove, she laughed and said no. He gifted her some tea, though, a special blend, “from one of the graves of the less scrupulous families of the north. Good for muscle tension, I find. Grew it myself.”

“This is a very kind gesture, very thoughtful,” Gladys answered back, undisturbed by the whole fact that it was grown on graves.

“You serve the mother well. It’s only fair that you be rewarded.”

“You as well. All right, now get out!” She began pushing the Nein down the stairs. Jester tried to pull a fast one on Gladys— and failed. Caleb attempted to ask for a bookstore recommendation… and also failed. The kid didn't bother. 

As the door closed in their faces, Jester let out a pitiful, “Have you ever heard about our lord and savior, the Traveler?” But her plea fell on a closed door. 

The salt air, drawn from the see onto land with a calm breeze, broke the suspenseful air around the group. Gulls called overhead, almost laughing at the small pout that Jester sported as she whirled around. Rowan didn't feel annoyed or offended. They were just glad they'd noticed the weird patterns in the waves. Maybe... maybe that was a skill they could cultivate.

“I thought she was really nice,” Caduceus said, looking up at the top of the lighthouse.

“She’s pretty cool. I liked her a lot,” Jester agreed.

“I don’t think she liked most of us, but she was pretty cool.” Caleb gave the kid a wink, and started back to the Open Quay.

“She loved us!” Jester giggled as she and her duplicate began to skip away. “We were great.”

* * *

Rowan did not like the Sluice Weave, not one bit. Getting there was annoying— the little boat rocked every time Jester muscled the oars through the choppy water. The movement made their head spin, which made their stomach dizzy. They would’ve lost their lunch if the boat hadn’t stopped in the breaking water.

Getting in was a matter of Jester and Yasha tearing a couple bars off with their bare hands. In hindsight, they guessed they shouldn’t have underestimated the womens’ raw strength… But they were powerhouses, and they broke that gate without much fuss. The Nein plunged into the Weave without a second thought. Save for Nott, who needed a quick Suggestion from Caleb to try swimming for once.

Rowan joined, of course. It was decided that leaving a ten-year-old in a boat was a bad idea. Especially one in the middle of an off-limits area. That could get them arrested. Not to mention, they _shouldn’t_ cast around strangers. And if something went wrong, how could they get help? Scream? Shout? Plus… sitting tight and watching Sprinkle held little appeal. 

Their danger, Rowan decided, was one borne of standing still. And anyways, the Nein could handle themselves.

So under the waters they dove, watching the pink blob of Caduceus wave at them with a gentle hand from the boat. They found it hard to propel their body through the waters. They knew how to swim— yet summers spent around rivers that cut through the forest and dumped into lakes were one thing. Never in their life had Rowan swam in waters that tugged and pushed them.

From behind, they felt a something against their back. With a start they whirled around, letting a bubble of air escape their mouth with a soft gasp. Immediately they began to breathe in water, the salt burning their nose and windpipe. Caduceus pushed them the last way until they breached the surface in a small antechamber. It was nothing more than a small, stone room, where the air smelled more of salt than the sea itself. Most of the Nein blinked with surprise and quiet fear as Rowan doubled over against a stone wall, Caduceus’s hand on their shaking shoulder. 

Sprinkle was miserable; in Jester’s hood, the little weasel coughed and spluttered. Rowan, too, spluttered and gasped in the air. It still stung their lungs and throat. Somehow, they were drowning on air. They heaved and breathed until all of the seawater was out of their system. It wasn’t fun. 

They could see, now, why Nott hated water. It made them sick and tried to kill them. It was foe, not friend.

In knee-deep water, that tried to trip them up with every ebb and flow, the Nein paused to catch their breath. The group shook themselves off a bit. Caleb cast Prestidigitation a few times to dry off his hands and hair. Molly, too, tried to rid his curls of the seawater. But instead of spells, he sent showers of droplets from his locks by just… shaking his head. Like a dog. Flinching away from the spray, the kid pulled their book from their satchel and gave it a quick inspection. It wasn’t dry by any means, but the pages weren’t damaged beyond repair. A few Prestidigitated warm breezes later, and the pages were dry, if a bit crinkled.

“Remind me,” Caleb said, patting their head as Rowan slung their bag over their shoulder. “Remind me to get you a waterproof case for your spellbook.” He held part of his cloak open, gesturing to the holsters that looped around his arms and back. 

They nodded. It was a nice thought, but they doubted it’d ever happen. Rowan knew they were low-priority. Pushing wet hair from their eyes, they distinctly remembered Jester and Molly promising a bath. With soap.

But before they could remind the pair of tieflings about that particular promise, Beau and Fjord were checking around corners and pushing down corridors. The adventure was on. Often, Nott or Caduceus would put a hand out to stop them from wandering down a hall on their own. When Molly and Caleb prodded at a grate near the ceiling, their offer to squeeze in was shut down. They wondered, kept to a distance by the Nein’s worried expressions, if this was what adventuring felt like. Swimming into unknown locales, pushing through water that threatened to shift direction at any moment, looking around corners to find an unknown enemy. And the ever present reminder that they were a liability. 

Equal parts thrilled, frustrated, and terrified, Rowan followed the Nein as they were directed. Wait here, stop there, stand behind Yasha for a moment. It would’ve insulted them, they guessed, if they didn’t understand. Now they were both _a_ danger and _in_ danger.

Time slipped past, trickling under their feet with the pools of water. Maybe an hour in, the party monk paused. “Hey, Fjord?” Beau asked, her eyes trained on a small whirlpool forming in the water. “Is it about time for high tide?”

After a quick time check from Caleb, Fjord answered, “No, it’s past noon.”

The pair watched as the whirlpool began to gather into two forms. Dragging up into vague, humanoid shapes, the Nein paused to watch two water elementals drift into being. 

“Really feel like this is something that might… attack us and kill us… Mighty Nein? Mighty Nein?!” Beau looked back as she threw a couple shuriken into the waters. “I think this is… uh… a thing to kill?”

As the group sprang into action like a moderately-oiled machine, Rowan decided. Now was a time to prove themselves. They weren’t a liability to the Nein— they would become a liability to the Nein’s enemies. Anxiety wracked through their body. They _needed_ to stay with the Nein. It was up to their little hands to show the Nein that all these adults should keep a ten-year-old kid around. Undaunted by any kind of second-guessing, when the adults sprang into action, they sprang, too.

The only battle Rowan had experienced was the ettin fight. And they’d kept out of it for a vast majority of the action. Plus, they’d frozen after casting Thunderwave. Granted, it was the first time they’d cast silently. This time, they decided, it would be different.

As the amorphous shapes of the water elementals slid towards the group, Beau was first on the draw. She’d seen them moving before anyone else had suspected, so it was natural to see her spinning forth with a quick staff attack. She missed, the thing dissolving into a formless being again. Bouncing her staff from the wall, she smacked the creature as it began to reform; showers of droplets sprayed off its semi-solid body. 

Jester giggles as she casts Spiritual Weapon, her lollipop hovering in the room with a colorful, pink aura. It thwacked an elemental; the shower of water felt different than the seawater pooling in and around their boots. It felt alive.

Infused with a certain reckless resolve, Rowan leapt forwards. As their fingers called to the elements, a Ray of Frost shot towards one of the elementals. It screeched as ice began to crawl across its chest. They gulped, stumbling back into the nearest wall as Fjord shot a couple Eldritch Blasts towards the second one.

In an instant, the elementals were upon them. One overwhelmed Beau, creeping into her space and surrounding her with its shifting body. Within the waters, Rowan caught a short glimpse of her grimacing; a few bubbles wound their way around her hair and up. And then everything around them started to shift, to wiggle, to waver.

The second elemental had overwhelmed Rowan, angered by the frost still clinging to its formless body. Surprise, more than anything, made the little wizard freeze. The thought that they should keep their mouth shut was usurped by the overwhelming desire to scream.

Which wouldn’t have worked, anyways.

For the second time that day, bubbles broke from their lips to burst out of the elemental. Within moments, they were drowning again. Through the water, they heard Molly scream. A purple blob started to move close. With what little forethought they could muster, the kid ducked. 

A scimitar’s blade cut clean through the elemental. Yet its body absorbed the slicing, droplets reforming without effort. It made him angrier; in a heartbeat, he whirled around and sent two more cuts towards the creature. It had the audacity to dodge.

Things started to flow downhill from there. The world around Rowan, already shifting and difficult to see, started to black out at the edges. A weird pressure, not unlike a headache, started to expand. It was hard to tell what was going on until Yasha’s arm wrapped around their waist and pulled them free.

She held the kid against her chest until the elementals were down. She held the child against her chest until they stopped spluttering and started to take in deep, ragged breaths. She held the child against her chest until Rowan could hear the aasimar’s own heartbeat begin to calm down. She held Rowan there, and patted their soaking head with her hand. “You’re alright,” she whispered, “We’ll always come get you.”

Fingers shaking, they signed, _Thank you_.

“It is no problem,” she murmured, placing a kiss on their head.

“That wasn’t cool!” Jester pouted in the corner, hands crossed across her chest. Her bottom lip stuck out, the playful expression pushing back any worry she’d once felt. “Like, you’re just a kid!”

“Yeah?” Fjord coughed, shaking some water from his hair. “And how old are you?”

With a smirk and a twirl, she asked back, “What, you— like— don’t already know?”

“I mean,” Mollymauk added as he sashayed over to Rowan to pat them on the wet shoulder, “even I’m more of a child than you are.”

After Caduceus checking them over and determining that yes, they were not in danger, the Nein was off again. This time, Rowan stood to the back of their own volition. When the group stopped to inspect something, they pulled at their bag and tried to dry their spellbook again. It wasn’t damaged beyond repair. But it’d gotten close.

And then the Nein heard voices.

The fight with Algar was an odd one. Rowan kept to the back, trying to feel useful. The shot more icy bolts towards the enemies, they did. But it was only when they had the right angle. When they could hide behind a pillar, or another member of the Nein, and snipe from far enough away. Often times, the rays missed. But they were trying. 

Not to mention it was quite difficult to snipe anything when a great ball of darkness erupted in the hallway a floor up. At that point, they gave up and just kept hiding as best as they could. 

When Fjord stepped from the darkness and into the wet room, holding an _arm_ aloft, something shifted. While an unpleasant grin spread across Molly’s face in one instant, it fell in the other. His red eyes shifted back to Rowan. Yasha caught his gaze and stepped in front of the child, placing a hand on their head. “You do not need to see that,” she said, loud enough to carry up to where the half-orc stood.

There was a silent beat. Sluggish and thick enough that Rowan imagined spooning it like pudding or jelly. 

They’d seen blood before. Fuck, they’d seen plenty of it coursing down their neck and chest before passing out in the forest. They’d seen a lot of it dripping from rags as Leonora tried to keep them alive, tried to push the fever and the bleeding back. Blood was normal.

They guessed the severed hand wasn’t.

For the rest of the afternoon, Fjord seemed a bit sheepish around Rowan. With the rest of the Nein— particularly Nott, Jester, Beau, and Molly— he grinned and preened at their apparent, morbid amusement. But when his eyes rested on Yasha, or Caduceus, or Rowan, his shoulders would deflate a bit. 

It almost seemed like an apology when he offered to take Algar up to the docks and ship him out. As he passed by, no longer looking like the green, half-orc he was, he sent the kid a silent plea; shoulders hunched, eyebrows laced, expression apologetic.

Nodding and shrugging, Rowan watched as he left the rest of the Nein to forge a letter. It was amusing; Rowan stood in the corner watching Jester and Nott dig through the man’s desk while Beau and Molly poking at all the floorboards. The cackling and laughter that started to fill the room with every new sentence cracked their self-imposed distance. It seemed like things were going their way.

What happened next could only be described as a shitshow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Currently writing the Sluice Weave, but what with other responsibilities... I've been having a hard time focusing on the canon story. That... and my traitorous brain gets ideas for events WAY in the future... and that's not always helpful.~~
> 
> Added the Sluice Weave part, as I decided to make the combat a little shorter than I had originally intended. I added the scene to Chapter 7, as opposed to making it Chapter 8, because I'm a lover of long chapters. When one of my favorite authors comes out with a chapter... I can't help but feel _more_ excited when the word count is... well... A LOT.


	8. A Very Eventful Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the kiddo has a bath, shares their secret one more time, and has a very bad night. All in the span of five hours.

A cool, night breeze started to set upon the ocean as the Nein made their way from the Sluice Weave back to the Lavish Chateau. Walking back sucked. Even after dumping Algar in a ship and forging the letter, everyone’s shoes were still soaked. With every footstep, the Nein squelched and and squished through the streets. Rowan looked through stringy hair that sat in a lanky mess on top of their head. They wished they could be dry. 

With a spark of insight, Rowan pulled on Caleb’s sleeve and wiggled their fingers with a wink. 

“You want to do some magic?” He whispered into their ear. They nodded, conspiratorial. Flagging down the rest of the group, he told them, “We need to pause, for a moment.”

 _I want to try something,_ they signed, the words floating in the air for a moment. Tugging on Caleb’s coat, they focused on the feeling of it, pulling on memories when it was dry and clean. Little whisps of hot air rose from the tattered fabric. Their hand passed over a section of it. A grin spread across their little face as they continued to dry Caleb, one patch at a time. It worked, if a bit slowly.

They beamed. _There. A reason for the Nein to keep them._ His shoes and socks no longer squelched with every movement. Even his scarf was nice and fluffy once more. “ _Danke schön, kleiner Rabe,_ ” he mumbled, feeling the hem of his shirt. “That is a good trick.”

“Ooh!” Jester lunged forwards, bobbing up and down. “Me next, please! My hair is like… _so damp_ you guys…” She let Rowan run the magic over her clothes, admiring it as they went. “I even feel clean! It’s like a bath on the go!”

Molly was next. As he preened and turned under their mildly amused attention, he ruffled the kid’s hair. “You still get a bath tonight. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten!” He winked at them. “Even if you can magic us a bit drier and cleaner… still could use one.” Smirking to the group, he said, “We all probably smell like salt and seaweed.”

Nott sniffed Caleb’s coat. “No he doesn’t! He smells like grass and… and… fresh breezes!”

“Does magic have a scent?” Beau asked as she watched her clothes dry under Rowan’s magic. She knelt down as their fingers glowed and took a loud sniff. “Nah, not really.” She sniffed again. “I guess now you mention it, it does kind of have one… but not much.” She stood and gave Rowan a smirk. “Nice work, kiddo.”

After the group was clean, they continued walking to the Lavish Chateau. Jester kept up her feminine tortle disguise, complete with a skirt and a ridiculous voice. Even back at her home she continued to cast Disguise Self, surrounding herself with magic to protect against prying eyes.

As soon as the group greeted Marion, and she offered anything the Chateau had to offer, Molly announced, “Baths! The little one _must_ have a bath.” He hopped atop a stool and declared, in a street hawker’s voice, “They’re warm! They’re pleasant! They make you smell like soap and civilization! A necessary expense in an adventurer’s spending!”

“I quite agree,” Marion said. With a small motion, she bid a servant to prepare one. “The Chateau has a collection of soaps to offer; feel free to pick and choose whichever suits your taste.” She gave the kid a warm smile. “And if you need someone to do your hair…”

“Oh, like, my mom can _totally_ help you with that! She’s super good at braiding.”

Nott stepped forward, puffing out her little chest. “You don’t have to worry! I’ve got this!”

The Nein, Rowan included, turned to look at Nott. Her scraggly hair wasn’t very long, nor was it in a stunning style. In contrast, Marion’s coiffed hair appeared both effortless and incredibly difficult. Even Jester, Yasha, and Beau had more complex hairstyles. And that was because Beau wrapped a little, blue ribbon around her hair.

A single blink was all the reaction Marion gave before she bestowed another kind grin on the goblin. “Of course. I have all the necessary supplies, but perhaps Jester—” she turned to wink at her daughter, “Perhaps you would prefer to show the child your collection? It is still in your room, right where you left it. Last I remember, you had quite a collection of pins and ties and ribbons.”

Nott’s eyes lit up. “Do you have those ties with a bobble on them?”

Pouting for a moment, her face contorted in an attempt to recollect what _was_ in her collection, Jester shrugged. “I don’t remember! Let’s go check!” They darted off in search of the forgotten treasure.

“And now we take our leave,” Molly declared, taking the kid’s shoulder in his hands and bowing as he steered them from the room. 

Down the hall, one of the servants flagged the pair down, opening the door to a candlelight-filled room with an enormous, porcelain tub in the center. It nearly filled the petite room. A fire roared in the hearth, a collection of soaps and gorgeous, cut-crystal bottles filling a shelf that stood beside it. Steam curled from the hot water and drifted from the windows, cracked open to draw forth the cool night breeze. A painted screen and an enormous chest stood against the opposite wall.

“Perfect,” Molly declared, nodding to the servant. He slid her a gold piece with a wink, saying, “Our friends will start dinner without us— save us some of it, please?”

“Certainly, sir,” she curtseyed, her dark hair bobbing in front of her pretty face for a moment before she left the pair to their own devices. 

Cracking his knuckles Molly gestured to the screen. “You can change behind that while I pick the soaps!” When Rowan shrugged, he added, “Well, you don’t _have_ to, but it’s a privacy thing. Do it if you want to.” Prancing over to the shelves, he started to open and sniff every single bottle. Several of them found their way to the tub as he began to mix an almost insufferable concoction of scents into the hot water. 

It took some effort to keep the bubbles from growing too big and climbing their way outside the porcelain basin. He kept himself purposefully busy constructing as thick a layer of bubbles as he could manage before the suds slopped over the side of the tub. 

Rowan shrugged to themselves and stepped behind the screen. They pulled their bag off their shoulder and tossed it to the chest. The thud of their box of components caught Molly’s attention. “Do you bring that everywhere with you?” He asked. 

From behind the screen, Rowan signed a quick affirmative over the painted paper. 

“You’re like Caleb. Our resident dirty wizard always has his spellbooks on him. You’ve seen it, right? He keeps them in little holsters under his arms. Which means,” Molly paused to return to the shelf and pick through the various bars of soap, “that his books now smell like armpit.” He laughed to himself, hoping that the kid was amused, too. It was hard to tell, what with the complete lack of sound when they laughed. 

Still behind the screen, Rowan pulled their shirt over their head, feeling the fabric sort of cling to their skin as they tugged. They'd forgotten to dry themselves off. _Huh._ As they pulled their socks and shoes off, too, they stared at the small puddle of water dripping at their feet.

It was quiet for a minute. After waiting as long as he felt necessary, Molly poked his head behind the screen, a hand shielding his eyes. “You good?” 

Rowan grabbed his fingers and pulled them off his red eyes, and pointed at the pool of water next to them. They were still holding their damp clothes. 

The kid may not care, but Mollymauk resolutely _didn’t_ look; he shut his eyes and held his hands out for the sopping fabric. “Oh, I’ll dry that.”

He timed his actions just so. As Rowan moved in front of the screen, Mollymauk turned his back to them. He kept up a light conversation as he kicked a towel around he floor, listening to the kid test the water. “If it’s too hot— or not hot enough— try using that spell. Man is Prestidigitation useful,” he said, tossing the towel atop the dirty clothes. “You in?” 

The splash was good enough. “Excellent. Do you like the bubbles?” He walked towards the tub, grin widening into something softer and more real than before. 

Rowan was sitting with their nose and eyes above the water, fingers moving the mass of bubbles around them. The layer of foam was so thick they couldn’t see their toes. Or their knees. Which was purposeful, on Mollymauk’s part. Not that Rowan would ever now. Gingerly, breaking the surface with a gentle and slow motion, they brought their toes up. Sinking their head in, they wiggled them. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” he laughed. 

Molly was thoughtful, Rowan decided. With all his brash bravado and the overconfident posturing, he was a good person. Over the last week, the kid realized that he never once made them feel uncomfortable. He didn’t pry or poke too far. Not with them, at least. He poked and prodded Caleb and Beau enough, but that was for different reasons, they guessed. Plus, despite the fact that he was so affectionate with his friends, he learned that sometimes… sometimes Rowan didn’t like hugs. Or pats. Or ruffling their hair. And, even faster than Caduceus, Mollymauk knew when to step back and give them room. He figured it out so fast.

And it was nice, to sit next to him and listen as he wove stories form his Tarot cards. There was a part of them that believed it all to be a lie. A fun, pretty lie that didn’t hurt people. The way Mollymauk told peoples’ fortunes, things always worked out better in the end. Or had hope of a happy ending. 

He once read for them. Rowan remembers the way his cards flickered in the firelight as he sat their hands on top of the cards and asked them to think. To think long and hard about what they wanted to ask the universe. 

He read the cards they picked. At this point, they couldn’t remember what they were or what they meant. They couldn’t remember the story Molly told. But they could remember his practiced fingers shuffling the cards and flipping them over with a flourish. 

Now, he was rubbing soap into their hair, lathering the black strands into a huge tower on their crown. “The fact that you don’t have horns, little one, is actually grand! It means I can do this—” he said, manipulating the hair into a ridiculous shape. “Look!” He proffered a mirror for them to see. Somehow, with their soapy hair, the tiefling had given them horns. They were simple in shape, and reminded Rowan of Marion’s. “Now you’re one of us tiefs,” he said, leaning in to give them a peck on their temple. 

As he held the mirror, the water fogged up their reflection. He moved to take it away and continue with his washing, but the kid grabbed his hand. A bit confused, he watched with widening eyes as they wrote a single word in the fog. “What is that?” He peered at it for a while, squinting as he reread the letters with interest. “Is that your name?” He asked. They nodded, fingers sliding into the water. 

With newfound reverence, he set the glass aside. “You’re telling… me?” They nodded. “Yeah?” Shuffling around in the water, Rowan turned to stare directly into his eyes. They nodded again. 

“Rowan, that’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me,” he whispered, taking their head in his hands and planting a sloppy kiss into their soapy hair. He broke away, nose covered in suds as he smiled. “I’ll treasure it, promise. It’s not my secret to tell, after all.” He winked and nuzzled their forehead with his nose. “Did you pick that name?”

 _My mother gave it to me,_ their hands signed. _Mother wanted a name that wasn’t for boys or girls._

“Well, if you ever want to pick you own name,” He said, flinging a damp hand aside in a regal pose, “I highly recommend the process. Wonderful things can happen, when you choose your own name.”

Once they were clean enough for Mollymauk— from conditioning their hair to cleaning under their toenails with a little, rough brush (which was a process, since they kept trying to wiggle their way out of his hold)— the tiefling proclaimed the event over. He tossed the kid a couple towels, wrapping another one around their hair. “I’ll see if Jester has some of her old clothes to lend you. Tomorrow, we go shopping. We don’t have much time to dawdle, seeing as how we never stay in town for too long.” 

With a last grin, he added, “But we’ll make time for you.” 

Jester did, indeed, have some of her childhood clothes. In fact, she had a whole wardrobe full of dresses, a chest full of trousers, and drawers full of shirts, all worn soft with age. Molly picked an assortment, tossed them into the bathroom, and called for Rowan to meet the Nein downstairs. The servant he’d asked to save them dinner handed him a couple of plates as he slid in next to Yasha, wiping his hands on his trousers. “All done!” he cheered, looking to Jester. “We raided your closet, hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh! They’re going to be wearing my old stuff!” She vibrated with happiness as she looked over to her mother. “They’ll look so cute! Did you give them the overalls? It’s, like, _totally_ their aesthetic.”

“I did,” he agreed, gesturing to her with his fork. “And a couple dresses. Not sure what they’ll want.”

Marion nodded, looking to her daughter. “Perhaps the child would like to keep some of your things? Do they have just the one outfit?”

She nodded, pouting. “Yeah, just that. Oh! And a scarf. But, like, that’s an _accessory_ , not clothes.” She bounded from her seat and up the stairs, her voice dying away as she rounded the corner up to the third floor, “I’ll get a pile of stuff for them to choose from! And my old backpack. Their little bag _totally_ doesn’t have enough space for a couple sets of clothes.”

Nott grinned. “That’s one way to keep her entertained.”

“She is a spirited, my daughter.” Marion watched the stairs for a moment before grinning wider. “Little one! You look so relaxed.”

Rowan was wearing a pair of overalls. And one of Jester’s shirts. They padded down the stairs (shoeless, since Molly had taken them to be cleaned), sat down on a chair. They reached for the plate left behind but was immediately interrupted by Jester thundering back down the stairs, sweeping them up, and sprinting upstairs again. 

“Nott!” She screeched, giggling as she took the stairs two at a time. “Let’s roll!” 

“Yeah!” The goblin hopped up and rushed afterwards, caught up in the moment. “Don’t leave for the docks without us!” She gave a smile to Caleb, and shot Fjord a quick ‘I’m watching you’ sign she had learned from Rowan.

“It’ll be a few more hours, yet!” Caleb shouted at her retreating, green form. “They’re going to drown the kid in clothes, aren’t they?”

“Why not?” Molly smirked, looking around. “It’s fun to choose to take care of someone. Especially when they usually don’t need taking care of.” Leaning onto Yasha’s lap, he began debating whether or not Algar was handsome with Beau, who was staunchly against the very idea of it. 

From behind the purple tiefling, Yasha gave Marion a wry smile. Oh, the two of them knew about taking care of someone alright. Their respective tieflings may be a lot to handle, but they were good. Good, kind, and loud. 

Upstairs, Jester was pulling all of her old clothes from storage in a storm of fabric. Lace and satin and chiffon and velvet and cotton and linen and wool flew through the air into a messy heep on her old bed. “You can have any of these things! There’s plenty for you to choose from— it might be a good idea to pick a lot of choices! That way you can figure out your style,” she said, gesturing at herself. “I have style. Molly has style. Beau has style.”

“Yasha has style, too,” Nott squeaked, standing behind a stool. “Sit down, I’ll start brushing your hair. The idiot didn’t remember to do at least that.” She patted the cushion in front of her and gestured for Jester to start showing off Rowan’s choices. 

Over the course of an hour, Nott attempted to braid Rowan’s hair into a singular, complex tail. But her styling was interrupted by Jester, who would find an item and decide Rowan had to try it on. Dutifully, they would take the garment, hide behind Jester’s paper screen— _What was with fancy people and paper screens?_ — and then waltz around between the two women. 

Both would coo and preen at anything and everything.

By the end, Rowan had wrestled Jester’s giant pile down to: a pair of strong, cotton trousers with pretty, decorative patches on the knees; a couple loose shirts; one velvet blouse that was softer than anything they’d ever felt; the overalls they were wearing; a knee-length, forest green cloak; a bright blue dress; and a straw hat. “You match Deuces, now” Jester said, positioning it on their head. “It, like, doesn’t make sense to wear at night, but whatever.”

“It’s a _look_ ,” Nott declared, tying off their braid with a piece of ribbon. She stuffed a few more choices into a drawstring bag Jester gave her, along with a spare brush, comb, and other hair things. There were more colors in that one bag than Rowan had ever seen in one place before. 

“There! That should all fit in Jester’s backpack.”

“Do you want to keep the one you have? Or just use this one?” Jester looked at the ratty thing still holding their spellbook. Rowan nodded, grabbing their bag along with the backpack. They tried hefting both on, but it wasn’t comfortable. Their bag would pull at one shoulder, and knock them off balance. With a sigh, they pulled their box of things and their spellbook out.

Both Jester and Nott flew into an excited frenzy again. “What’s this!” Nott dove for the box, shaking it. “Do you have your own collections?” She explained her old rock collection, and her stick collection, and her buttons. She still had her button collection, and showed a handfull of them to Rowan. “Is that what’s in the box?”

They shook their head and Rowan opened it. The wooden box hinged open with a small squeak, battered and a bit tweaked from use and water damage. Inside, the box was split into tiny compartments, each of which held a small item or two. Pretty rocks. Sparkling quartz crystals. Dried leaves of different colors. Bright blue or dull brown feathers. Just random bits and pieces. A few of them were even spell components. They kept a hand over the paper plastered to the inside lid. They liked Nott and Jester, but sharing their secret with one person was enough for the night. 

_It’s just… stuff I liked,_ Rowan signed, pointing to a few of the items. _My old magic teacher told me I’d need these._ Their finger prodded bits of chalk no longer than a knuckle. _She said these things might be useful, depending._

“Depending on what?” Jester asked, looking at the feathers. 

_Depending on what spells I used. Those can be for Feather Fall._ They pointed to the different feathers.

“Neat!” Nott snapped the box closed after they’d put the things away, shoved it in the backpack, and began to fold the clothing. Despite her rush, she folded with a precision that was surprising. 

Compared to her own packing technique, she put care and attention into folding Rowan’s things. “Put the stuff you don’t use at the bottom, and the stuff you use all the time at the top. The box can sit at your back, so nothing stabs you while you walk. Same with any books you get. Roll your socks to save room.” She blinked. “Jester, they need like… five pairs of socks. And underthings.”

“On it!”

Nott continued to narrate her packing as Rowan watched Jester bomb her with rolled pairs of socks. The rogue caught every single one. Some of them without looking.

Five minutes later, it was packed up, secure and comfortable. Rowan pulled it on and spun. It was just about the right size— if maybe a bit smaller than they had imagined. That could just be the fact that it bulged with things. It didn’t feel super heavy. Somehow, Nott knew how put everything in the perfect spot. “And the backpack’s made with leather, so it should help keep _some_ water off your spell components,” Jester added, patting the fabric. “It’s super comfy, too, cause I— like— broke it in already.” She picked it the straw hat. “Here! Put it on! Put it on!” They just leaned forward and allowed her to bestow the hat on their head with a flourish.

Nott slipped in behind them, patting the bag with a green hand. “You ready? Let’s show the others!”

“Molly’s going to _totally_ want to see all of their clothes.” She darted from the room, skipping down the stairs with Nott. 

Rowan could just hear the goblin’s retreating voice, saying, “No! I just folded it all! Do it some other day.”

It took them a few moments to convince their feet to move. Now they were on their own, they had a moment to breathe. And to think. Thoughts that were pushed to the back of their mind burst forth. Tears dribbled down their cheeks; they hadn’t expected _any_ of this. Molly and Jester had been talking about a bath and new-ish clothes since they day the two tieflings met Rowan. Nott, too, seemed transfixed by their long hair. There was a longing in her eyes. 

With shaking hands, they stroked the backpack’s straps. This… was all so much. 

But they sucked a steady breath in, dried their tears on their shirt sleeve, and patted their clothes. _I’m not a baby anymore,_ Rowan reminded themselves. _I need to stop crying every time someone does something nice._ In the back of their mind, a dark thought formed; would the Nein get tired of taking care of them? Would the novelty wear off? What would happen then?

For the moment, the bright spots that lit up their heart burned away the negativity. Plus, their stomach rumbled and growled. Dinner— and the rest of the Nein— was waiting. They didn’t want to push their luck… but a that waterproof case for their spellbook, the one Caleb mentioned, would be incredible. But after that, they promised, they’d never ask for anything ever again. 

* * *

Maybe it was the adrenaline and joy of the evening. What with their first bath in months and a ton of new clothes, there were plenty of reasons for why Rowan didn’t feel exhausted at midnight. Perhaps it was the amusement of watching Beau wander through the streets with an owl on her arm. She’d decided that, since it was night out, that night was an opportune time to train the angry bird. 

The real reason didn’t matter, though— they were just happy to tag along. (They hadn’t noticed, but Beau had slipped some coffee into their cocoa to keep them awake.)

During dinner, Marion looked at them with a sort of sad expression on. It kept flicking towards them as they munched the bread and fruits that Molly had saved. It was as though she remembered something melancholic, and couldn’t get it out of her head. _Or_ — a nasty part of their mind suggested— _maybe she didn’t want to keep you, and she felt awkward._

When Caleb mentioned enjoying her company for dinner, the others agreed. “She misses me,” Jester moaned as the group made their way towards the docks again. “When I’m not there, she gets _super_ lonely you guys.”

“Why don’t you have her look after your rat?” Nott smirked, gesturing to where Sprinkle was wrapped around Jester’s neck. 

Affronted, the tiefling puffed out her cheeks and pouted. “He’s a weasel! And he’s _my_ weasel, so there!” Sticking out her tongue, she harrumphed off to talk to Caduceus. 

“Nah, makes sense,” Beau grunted. “Her mom’s nice. But it’s just the two of them, ya’know?” Rowan shrugged. Since Jester only mentioned her dad in the context of childhood stories that sounded more like myth than reality, she assumed Jester had just a mom. But they couldn’t relate to being an only child. Somewhere, far to the northern end of the Empire, their older brother was looking after their younger brother and sister. No matter what, Hunter and Scout wouldn’t listen to Samuel, and that was that. But Sam had a way of bringing all the little ones in on his ridiculous, complicated games.

Sighing, they found Molly’s hand and held it. “Hey there little one.” He grinned down at them. “Looking fine. Tomorrow, you’re going to show me your clothes, okay? Maybe there’s something you want me to embroider on.” He twirled them around in a short dance, then showed off his coat. He posed in the warm cast of a street light, the threads bright despite the night. “Like so!”

“Jester, you wouldn’t mind?” Fjord picked at his shoulder and shot the woman an inquisitive look.

Spinning around with a shrug, she began to walk backwards. With a smirk to Yasha, who gave her a smile, she said, “Rowan can do whatever they want with all that! It’s theirs now!”

Conspiratorially, Molly leaned down and whispered in Rowan’s ear; “I’ll show you how to embroider flowers and feathers and moons and stars and whatever you’d like!” He looked up to lock eyes with Jester— still walking backwards— and grinned. He murmured, “We’ll do it in secret so Jester doesn’t know. And when we’re done, she’ll be _so_ jealous of your things that she’ll just _have_ to join us.” With a wink he broke away to badger Beau, telling her that her clothes could use some changes. Namely, all of them.

Fjord looked at the two bickering and sighed. “Why do they hate each other?”

Caduceus butted in with a quiet, “They don’t,” as Rowan signed, “They’re like siblings.” With a grin, the firbolg patted their head. “See? Even the kid agrees. They act like me and Calliope.”

“Is that… your sister?” The way he said that word it almost sounds reverent. Fjord tried his est not to seem too curious, but he kept his eyes on Caduceus’s face. 

“She is.” And that was all the firbolg said. 

By the time the group reached the docks, Fjord and Rowan were both wrestling with the desire to ask more questions. The kid, for one, wanted to know if Fjord had any siblings. He always seemed a bit sad whenever the group talked about family. Maybe he didn’t have one. On the flip side, Fjord wanted to know more about Caduceus’s family— they sounded so… normal. 

A hand appeared on their shoulder. With a start, the whirled around to see Caleb looking a bit surprised and guilty. He held his hands up, and whispered, “Do you want to see me re-summon Frumpkin?” He proffered a piece of chalk from his pocket. “It’s something you can learn if you put the time in.” 

They puffed back up and nodded, insistent. _Can I copy it from your spellbook?_

“Sure.” His lips twitched into a soft smile. “When we have time. Do you want a familiar?” Pulling up beside him, they followed as he crouched behind a crate. With a sigh, they shook their head. “Oh. Why not?” It took them a while to answer, since they focused a bit more on Caleb’s motions as opposed to his question. After a minute or two, they just shrugged. Sprinkle was cute, but he was more feral than friendly. Frumpkin was great, but they’d heard stories of the cat getting punted into oblivion by a pissed off guard. It’d make them feel guilty if their familiar ever experienced that. 

And anyways, they didn’t want to step on Caleb’s toes. _He_ was the wizard with the magic cat. Well… he turned it into an octopus but it was still Frumpkin. _They_ might be a little magician, too, but their role was to be… the kid. Maybe they should start thinking about how to become more than just that. A familiar wasn’t in the cards, though. Not yet.

“Kid?” Caduceus leaned over the crates to stare at the pair. “Shake him out of it. Looks like he won’t have time to finish.” He pointed at the other side of the docks. 

In the light of the torch poles, Rowan could just make out a figure by the water. Nott was crouched under the platform where the ships docked. Crossbow in hand, she hid in the shadows _five feet_ from where a blonde half-elf talked to a hooded figure. With the way he seemed motionless, Rowan wondered if he was trying to disappear into the night sky. 

A plop, and a rather loud splash. Somewhere, Jester attempts a terrible dolphin noise; it was not very effective. Both figures furtively stared at a ripple in the water. Watching the waves, Rowan saw the tip of Fjord’s green nose disappear under the dock. On the other side of the area, Mollymauk and Beau started pretending to have a lover’s spat. It wasn’t persuasive. Nobody in their right mind would ever believe the two were anything… romantic. 

At some point, they lost sight of Nott, who left her hiding spot in the shadows to go somewhere. The blonde was reeling, trying to convince the hooded figure that he didn’t bring accomplices. That he was alone. That he was to be trusted. 

Rowan had just enough time to tap Caleb on the shoulder before everything went to shit.

Three bolts— archers with crossbows appeared on the ship’s deck— shot towards Beau. Without a second thought, she dodged one. In a feat of superhuman speed, she spun, catching the other two bolts in midair. In the same moment, she flung them back at the archers aboard the ship. 

“Come on!” The hooded figure shouted, pulling the fabric back to reveal a scarred cheek. “Take them out! They’ve seen too much.”

From underwater, Fjord drew his falchion and appeared next to the blonde elf standing at the docks. “Marius,” he said, pleading, “come with us.” The elf did not extend out his hand. Which was a poor decision, as that very moment Fjord exploded into a wall of force and pain, appearing at the other end of the dock. One of these days, they _had_ to learn that spell from him. 

Bolts flew threw the air for a second time, one whistling to Beau. She caught it and flung it back. Another screamed through the air and bounced off Caleb’s sheild. The third went for Mollymauk, which he sliced from the sky. Furious, Beau sprinted towards the figures and jumps. Midair, she punched the hooded figure, landing beside the dock into a defensive stance. 

“YAH!” Nott screeched, appearing from the darkness next to the deck again. She shot the figures with her own bolts before slipping into an open crate and disappearing again. 

A guttural scream ripped through the hooded figure. “Burn it all!” He rounded on the archers aboard the ship. “Quick!”

Rowan reached Fjord, clapping his arm with their hand. “You got anything?” He asked, looking towards the deck of the ship. Smirking, Rowan drew their hands before them and started to cast a quick spell. It was only a cantrip, but it would help. The pirates— for that’s what Rowan decided they were— wanted to move quickly, right? A bolt of ice shot from their outstretched hand, landing a solid hit on one of the archers. 

Frost began to grow up his arms and down to his fingertips. The man let out a growl, aiming towards the pair. Yet his movements were slowed, enough that Rowan knew the effect took. 

“Right behind you, kiddo,” Molly snickered, sliding his way by Marius to stand next to the hooded figure. “Good evening. Time to stop, friend.” He let out a raw, guttural shout in Demonic and slashed at the hooded man. He groaned, blood starting to ooze from his sleeves.

Though Marius tried to duck away from the converging enemies, every step he took unleashed a flurry of movement from the Nein. Molly got off a solid strike, toppling the elf back into Fjord, who pushed him towards Beau’s stunning strike. Stunned, he stood in place as the clerics summoned their magic and lept into the fray.

From is position just behind the crates, Caleb shot Firebolts towards the archers on the ship, hoping that the little fires did not set the whole vessel alight. 

Yasha was last to move, a bit stunned by just how badly things had begun. Striding forwards, she pulled Magician's Judge from its holster on her back and let out a roar. It reverberated through Rowan’s chest; they were glad the raging barbarian was on their side. But instead of striking at the enemies, Yasha rushed forwards and pulled Rowan back, placing herself between the archers and the kid. “Stay hidden,” she grumbled, using the blade of her sword like a sheild. “Step back. Don’t get in the thick of it.”

They did, their footsteps back protected and misdirected by Fjord rushing towards the ship with Nott just behind him. Beau kept Marius and the hooded figure busy while Molly helped take them down from behind. They followed Caleb’s lead and focused their aim on the ship-bound figures, unleashing cold blasts towards one archer at a time. 

Jester separated them a second time, pushing them back towards the crates. With all the moving bodies, it became more and more difficult to track the battle. At some point, they heard a small shout as an arrow sunk into Caleb’s shoulder. They froze, the magic from their fingers dissipating. They had nothing to help; wizards never learned healing magic. Not unless you were special. A different kind of special compared to Rowan, who stepped forwards and pressed their little hands to the bleeding wound. 

Blood gushed over their fingers as they looked up at Caleb. “You do not need to, _kleiner Rabe_ ,” he grimaced, shooting another bolt at the archers. “Go.”

Footsteps. Someone heard Fjord’s Thunder Step, and was coming to find them. Panic laced through Rowan’s body as their brain shut off. Instinct kicked in, and they put their whole weight and strength into pulling Caleb away from the sounds of armor and shouting guardsmen. The Zolezzo would tell the Crownsguard, and they’d be fucked.

The wizard stumbled away from the crates, a bit shocked that Rowan was, all of a sudden, frightened beyond belief. “ _Was ich_...” He looked in the direction of their terrified gaze, wide blue eyes focused on the Zolezzo stomping down a street. “Ah.” He turned his head to the rest of the group, who was half-on, half-off the ship’s deck. “Guards!”

Everything else, to Rowan, was a blur. Even days later, they could not say _why_ they threw themselves onto the ship in such a rush. They could not remember _what_ gave them the idea to push Caleb’s Fire Bolt away from the guards and towards the crate the two of them had stood behind. They did not know _who_ unlooped the mooring from the dock and started shouting to move the ship.

See, they _could_ remember two things. First was the blood rushing in their ears. It sounded more outside of themselves, something that almost pushed them from their body. Somewhere inside their skin, something else controlled their hands and arms and feet. And as that floaty sensation started to wear off, and it seemed like the Zolezzo were not going to follow the Nein onto the ship they’d apparently commandeered, the second thing struck.

They’d never been on a ship. And it did not agree with them.

Suffice it to say, the rest of the night was spent heaving over the side of the deck, listening to the delicious food from the Lavish Chateau all strike the midnight waters below. That floating part of their brain told them Caduceus was also unhappy, though he did not join them in evacuating their stomach of everything. Instead he shivered beside them, too tired and too uncomfortable to do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I need to add any more tags! A lot is going to happen in the next few chapters, since the first few days aboard the Mist turned the Mistake were eventful in canon. While I am not the best at writing Mollymauk, I do love the ability to add him back into the events of Critical Role. A piece of my heart will always be with our circus boy. Even if he doesn't get to come back as the tiefling we knew him to be, I still like him a lot.
> 
> Still, because I don't have much canon to work with, I'm pulling from what he did in previous sessions and what I've seen people speculating about in other fics, metas, and conversations with my friends. That being said, he was really sweet with Toya (if you are also terrible with names, as I am, she was the dwarf girl in the circus) and so I'm using this basis as a guide for how he deals with Rowan. Since he seemed close with Toya, I expect him to grow close with the kiddo pretty quick. Which is why he's one of the first ones to learn their name. 
> 
> I'm just soft for soft things, y'all.
> 
> EDIT: Thanks to tumbling_into_chaos for pointing out some errors in my German! Gender neutral German isn't... uh... as easy to write as English. Trust me. Nouns have gender, which blows my little English brain. That being said, I've taken their suggestion to use the nickname "little raven," as Rowan has black hair... and also because it gives me Vax feels. :)


	9. The Mist(ake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Nein takes over The Mist, there's a couple days of adjustment. To being on the ocean, to the new crew, to their new positions, and to each other. As the gang opens up a bit more to each other, Rowan starts to share their secret, too. 
> 
> (EDIT: I started to re-watch some of the old episodes... and realized I missed quite a few story beats! Whoops.)

Despite the relatively short number of days— a handful of hours from when they found Rowan wandering through the woods— The Mighty Nein had grown used to Rowan. Having them around was almost second nature. They trailed along after the adults, a hand looped in someone’s coat or hand. The Nein knew they were still a kid, and tried to act with a bit more care than they did before. Some stopped cursing when the kid was in earshot. There was a definite move towards knocking out people, or dealing non-lethal damage. Or trying to. But it was no matter. Adventurers do encounter some… nastier situations.

The stealing of The Mist, for one, was one they would have chosen the child _not_ be present for. All things considered, though, it was turning out alright. One whirlwind of ridiculousness later, and everyone was pleased enough.

The Nein’s first collective dawn at sea brought a thin light. Though the sun rose in a splendor of light pinks and oranges, it could not penetrate the thick fog that lay across the water. It almost seemed to illuminate the world more, though. Fjord wheeled the Mist back around, aiming towards Nicodranas’s harbors. There was no way the Nein would be able to sail a ship alone. Finding a crew— namely Orly the tortle— was an objectively better idea. Slowly, the rest of the Nein picked their way up onto deck. Molly strutted around, chatting with Beau. Even Nott seemed alright— so long as she stayed on deck or in the hold, she didn’t have to deal with water. Jester giggled, and Fjord seemed assured in a different way than before. Everyone seemed happy enough.

All, except for Rowan and Caduceus. 

Above the hold, curled up with an anxious Caduceus, they tried to sleep for the first time that night. Well… morning? Their eyes were shut to the dim light. And the sounds. And the smells. Creaking wood and rocking waves. Salt water and pine tar and jute rope. It all fought to overwhelm all of their senses. It made their stomach queasy and head swim. Everything thrown together had kept them awake all night. It forced them to the edge of the railing, their body threatening to turn itself inside out with every rock and roll of the deck. It wasn’t fun being seasick. 

At one point, Yasha had sat down with Caduceus and they’d talked. But they couldn’t really focus on that when their stomach was flip-flopping and dragging their attention off the side of the boat.

They felt Jester’s cool hand on their shoulder, and patted it with their own, damp one.

Letting out a long, deep breath, Caduceus shuddered. He had always felt the ground beneath his feet. The soil comforted him in a way that the deck of the Mistake did not. Could not. It was not living, not imbued with life from his goddess. The Wild Mother— of the forests and lichen and moss and mushrooms and _life_ — felt so far away and so unattainable. It made his head swim more than the rocking of the boat did.

Compared to the life in a single speck of dirt, the lifelessness of the ship’s timber felt so utterly wrong. Unlike Rowan he wasn’t physically ill. But his mind reeled where their body shuddered. Everything about this fet wrong; from the moment they interrupted Marius’s deal, the Nein was in over their heads. 

It became hard to think of what would happen. He felt tetherless, a feather adrift on the air. Where he had hope, if not faith, before… now he was lost. The seas brought him no comfort. His goddess was here, but it was not the goddess he was used to, had grown accustomed to, had seen and felt in the forests of his home.

His friends and compatriots could, however. Beside him, Rowan’s presence was soothing despite their rather greenish complexion. The child had entrusted him with a secret. Their secret. It made him feel close to the young human. Jester, too, brought him some hope. She sat on the deck against the railing, a hand on his arm, a haggard look on her face. Though he was more attentive to expressions, she was more attentive to emotions. A slight frown would draw her concern in a heartbeat. 

"Almost drowning was a lot." He gave her a nervous, affected laugh. His worry reeled her in. "Uhhh . . . that was a lot and uh . . . the ocean is a lot and this is a lot."

“Breathe,” she said. And he did. Rowan could feel his side expanding and contracting against their arm. It was comforting. They tried to follow along.

“The world is a lot bigger than your cemetary,” she said, giving him a sideways hug. Trying to cheer him up, she gave him a tight smile and added, “There are a lot of things for you to see. And we’re going to have to break you out of your comfort zone in order to find the path you’re looking for.” 

His big, furry hand tapped her arm. It helped. It truly did. If he could tether himself to her own hope, perhaps he’d clear up his own troubles. “Yeah,” he said, letting out another breath and looking to her, “I needed to hear that.” 

“Oh! And I talked with the Traveler last night, so I can do this!” she said, turning to lightly bop the kid on their elbow. “The Traveler is like, super cool, so you don’t have to be seasick anymore!” She gave Rowan a smile as her magic stilled their stomach and stilled their racing heart. “Lesser Restoration is super useful and I should totally be using it more,” she decided, flouncing away. “I’m going to go see if anyone else needs my help!” She waved as she disappeared below decks. She didn’t even wait for the kid to say thanks.

Pushing their head from the railing, the kid looked over at Caduceus with tired eyes. They turned, flopping so their back was against the railing instead of the salt-water damp firbolg. Dark-rimmed, sleep-crusted, blue-green eyes drifted to the skies. Though their body wasn’t queasy, their head buzzed from lack of sleep.

“Hey,” Caduceus said, patting their head. “I… I think we should get some rest. But first, I’m going to go down and make some breakfast. We all need something good after that last night. Think you can hold something down, now?” 

Beside him, the kid nodded, eyes steadily watching the opposite railing. Just because the waves weren’t forcing their insides to evacuate overboard… it didn’t mean they were used to the ocean currents. 

“Let’s go slowly, then, yeah?” He held a hand out, and felt the kid’s vice-like grip. “Whoa there,” he chuckled. 

The two stumbled down the steps— Caduceus off-balance from the kid pressing themselves against his body, Rowan off balance from the whole _tilting_ thing— and down under the hold. The kid blinked in the darkness, thankful. It wouldn’t be that hard to sleep, with how dim it was down there. In the distance, Fjord and Beau were discussing routes through the reefs with Marius, Nott and Caleb were chatting, and Molly was dragging Yasha onto deck to talk with Jester about the ship’s new name.

As Caduceus set to work cutting up some tropical fruits, the kid huddled in a far corner, sitting atop a barrel of salt. With a quivering hand, they pulled their backpack off and rummaged through it. Their cloak and clothes and box of things all smelled like salt and water, but their things were fine. A tad bit damp but safe. Rowan pulled the book from its place and held it against their chest. They flipped through the pages, checking to make sure that all the ink was in its rightful place. Despite everything, it was fine. The pages weren’t warped; there were no marks of damage anywhere.

Listening to the sounds of the ship around them, they closed their eyes. It took effort to try and convince themselves it was their new normal. It wasn’t possible to imagine where it was all coming from— they’d never seen a ship before Nicodranas. Never been close enough, never been in one. But they tried. The effort of that, with the sleepless night, lulled them right to sleep.

* * *

See, Caduceus had excellent hearing. Everybody in the Mighty Nein knew Rowan was quiet. To some, still, the silence served as an eerie reminder of what fear could do to someone. So it was a gift, then, that he could hear their breathing slow, and their clothing shift as they relaxed. Turning back to grab some rough bread, he sighed. At least someone was finding peace on this voyage.

He was amused that they had fallen asleep with their book tucked under their chin, but they were a caster. Based on Caleb, he guessed the wizarding obsession with their spellbook was normal. It was more adorable, though, to see nothing of their torso— just a book with a head and limbs.

Nobody woke Rowan until long after Caduceus had finished up his breakfast prep. It was afternoon, the sun almost setting past the western horizon, before Molly wandered through the kitchen and saw the little human curled in a corner. “That can’t be comfortable,” he muttered, crouching down on one knee to jostle their shoulder. “Hey.” Peering around, he whispered, “Rowan. Hey, Rowan! Wake up, kiddo.” 

With effort, they opened their eyes. A hand loosened from their death grip on the spellbook to push crusts of sleep from their eyes. They waved at the tiefling with a tired smile. Rowan looked around. It wasn’t that Rowan didn’t trust Molly— no. It was just… having two party members who knew their name, versus six who didn’t, was different.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Mollymauk looked around the room, staring at the crates and barrels. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you’ve got a bunk with Yasha and I? The annoying one is there, too, but there was no good way to convince her otherwise. What with the blatant horniness.”

Cracking a smile the kid practically folded themselves in half as they stuffed their book into their pack and nodded to Molly. A bed sounded nice.

“I’ll show you where it is. But you’ve got to sleep tonight. It’s not good if you’re sleeping half the day away, and staying up all night.”

A few minutes later, the two mounted the deck of the Mist to meet the rest of the Nein. “Captain,” Molly sneered, giving Fjord a flourishing bow. “I have brought our final member, as requested.”

“Right. Well,” He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees in a way that made Rowan frown. “We turned around while you were asleep and picked up a proper crew. Orly is with us—” he motioned to the tortle, who seemed alright with everything. 

Looking at the other people aboard, Rowan paused. Their fingers twitched. Their spellbook sat heavily on their shoulders. There were so many new people. It wouldn’t be smart to cast anything when they were on deck. Where anyone could walk over and see them with magic sparkling around their fingers. A quick look to Caleb confirmed it— he had a tight expression they’d learned a while ago. It meant he wasn’t happy, not exactly, but he was unable to do anything about it. 

Jester leaned forwards, placing her hands on her knees, too. But she winked at the kid, and put on a mocking voice. “Child,” she commanded, trying to mimic Fjord’s drawl, “You’re to help however you can. We’re all to take chores while aboard.” Rowan smirked, sharing a glimmer of mischief with the tiefling.

Righting up, the half-orc turned a bit pink. “Yes, well. Maybe you can… Nott’s going up to the crow’s nest soon… if you want to join?” 

Staring at the top of the sail, the kid shook their head. Yes, the ship rocked, but the crow’s nest? It _moved_. They weren’t going up there unless they could cast Feather Fall and not drop into the ocean. No thanks.

“Alright then,” Fjord rubbed his face for a moment. “Just… help out when you can, okay?”

“You say that like they don’t anyways,” Beau pointed out, ruffling their hair. “Kid’s always doing something to help out.”

“And if they don’t…!” Nott whipped out a vial of something. “I’ll just give them this!”

“Nott, what is that.” Molly rolled his eyes. “Please don’t poison the child.”

“It’s not poison! It’s… Well it’s juice from a very sour fruit. Not a lemon, but something _evil_ with bitter sourness. It’s not fun! So be good, or else!”

“That sounds like a very empty threat,” Caduceus mused. Yasha nodded, but kept an eye on the vial. 

“Why…” Fjord rubbed the back of his neck and thought. “Why don’t you take first watch with someone?”

“I think we can take you up on that,” Caleb said. Rowan gave him a nod. 

“Aye, sounds like a plan,” he replied, before slapping a hand over his face and sighing at Jester’s overexcited expression. “No, Jester. I’m not turning back into a sailor…” 

“But like, you _totally_ are!” She grinned, skipping around. In a sing-song voice, she danced around him and pulled Rowan and Nott into a little, dancing circle. “You are! You are!” 

Beau just gave Fjord an amused, not at all sympathetic, smile. 

* * *

The Mist was not a huge ship. It was about fifty feet long from tip to tip. As the day progressed, Rowan was taught all the names for it. That the sides were not ‘right’ or ‘left,’ but ‘starboard’ and ‘port.’ Why a ship’s side would be named starboard without having stars painted onto it was beyond them. It’d make it pretty, they reasoned, and make sense. (They made a mental note to ask Jester do do just that.) Though Marius seemed a bit scared of the rest of the Nein, he did not appear to think that Rowan was a threat. On the contrary, he tried to befriend the kid, whispering worries and questions to them under his breath. He kept looking at them with a curious, befuddled expression when they didn’t respond. 

It took him perhaps ten separate attempts before Rowan rounded on him. They tugged down the collar of their tunic and pointed at the scar. He didn’t seem to notice. Rolling their eyes up, towards the now dark, evening sky, they just took a handful of his shirt and pulled him towards a lantern. “Oh,” he said, looking at the raised mark. “I… Okay.” He was quiet for a while. 

As the sky turned black, though, he wandered over to where they were half-laying on the rigging. “Are you Beau’s daughter?” He asked, looking between her and them. “You’ve got similar skin tones and eye colors…” 

Rowan made a face. With a dismissive noise, they strutted over to Beau. Dragging the bewildered First Mate towards Marius, they gestured for him to ask the question again. Which he did. And to which Beau let out a humorless laugh and started to question just how dumb he was. “Nah,” Beau said, looping an arm around their shoulders, “They’re more… more like a little sibling.” She took a step back to turn about and strut away with Rowan before she added, “And they’re not a girl, so shut that shit up.” 

Under her glare, Marius’s questions ended. At the end of his shift, he scuttled down into the hold, a pinkish look to the tips of his ears. 

Caleb mounted the deck to begin their watch. Nott wandered up a few moments after him. _We’re on the ocean,_ the kid signed, motions slow and crisp in the lamplight, _Why do we have to do watch?_

“Oh, there’s plenty on the sea that’s dangerous, Rowan.” Nott gave them a knowing nod. “Sea serpents, creatures from deep below. Kraken. Dragons, probably.”

_Probably?_

Nott laughed, her voice raw, rough. “Yeah! ‘Course there are dragons. Dragons are everywhere, kiddo.”

There was a few moments of silence, before Caleb turned to Nott. Truth be told, Rowan didn’t really understand how to do watch. But they wandered the ship’s deck, coming to rest, eventually, on the prow. The two’s conversation drifted over, their ears picking up the word ‘kid’ or ‘ _Kind_ ’ a couple of times. They were more used to _kleiner Rabe_ , but just assumed that _Kind_ meant them.

That ever-present worry in Caleb’s voice mumbled, “We have done good things. We have also done, ah, worse things. Things the _Kind_ should, ah, not have seen. I know the day was… it was a day. But we want this to keep going.”

“Yes.”

“We care for these people, ja?” His eyes wandered over in their direction, more skimming the railing than them. His eyes seemed concentrated on the wood and not on the kid sitting on the statue of a lady. Orly hadn’t taught them what this was called yet.

“Absolutely.” There was a note of something odd in Nott’s voice. It made Rowan’s heart pang. “And we want to stay together. And if they’re thinking that this is not working out…” She paused, scoffing. “We have to do something to change that.”

“Of course.” Caleb nodded. “Good. Ja, this is good.” His face traveled back along the railing to look at Nott. He leaned down and whispered something to her, something that made her cackle and look pointedly in the kid’s direction. 

“Yeah, don’t expect a baby to fix the marriage,” she chuckled. 

While Caleb seemed to understand what she meant, it went right over Rowan’s head. This was about them, right? Did the Nein truthfully see them as a baby? Worry grew in their belly. 

They were dangerous, yes. Their magic was a danger to everyone around them. But if the Nein kept Caleb, and Jester, and Caduceus, and Fjord… then they’d keep Rowan, too, right? Rowan looked down at their little hands, illuminated in grays and blues by the moonlight. They were just as small as Nott— who admitted to being _younger_ than them. Anywhere between six to nine years old. At least Rowan knew— believed?-- they were ten. Tenish.

And whose marriage were they fixing? None of the Nein wore rings. Confused, they spent most of the next hour in a state of utter bewilderment before Nott came and dragged them down to the bunks, screeching at Fjord and Caduceus to take up the second shift.

* * *

The night before the Nein returned to the Open Quay, and every night after that, the kid slept more soundly than they had on land. When the land drifted away from them, and islands sprang up and over the surface of the water, the kid seemed to stabilize. 

Feeling confident that morning, Rowan had opted to tag along with Jester and Caduceus when they left the ship to gather supplies. They weren’t much of a help, they admitted, but it was fun to see all the things passing hands, filling up the hold. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen 100 gold pieces… but it still surprised them. And amazed them. Gold was so… pretty. It didn’t hold a candle to the coppers in their own pockets.

The pair of adults were still ferrying food and fixings aboard as Orly waltzed up the gang plank, discussed something with Fjord, and started to play his bagpipes. Again, they were thoroughly amazed by the beauty of the world. They decided, seconds after hearing Orly’s mumbling cadence, that they liked him. They liked him a lot. (It was something of a surprise to the old sailor that a _child_ was aboard, but Fjord and Caleb’s obvious doting allayed any of his worried thoughts.)

Beau, Nott, and Molly returned aboard with faces full of obvious joy. “The whisper campaign,” the teifling declared, smirking wide, “Was a veritable success.”

“So you know how I used my Duplicity to look like I had thrown myself off the pier?” Jester giggled. “You didn’t see it kiddo, but it, like, totally freaked out the Zholezo! It worked! But, you know, there aren’t many blue tieflings…”

“Which is a problem,” molly declared, putting a loose arm over Jester’s shoulder. “We tieflings are a rare treat.” Rowan gave him a confused look. “You’re all just used to us.”

“They think it was a green skinned dwarf who took a dive off the pier yesterday,” Nott declared. “And that there was a different number of masts.” 

“Glad we repainted the name,” Fjord drawled, giving Jester a slight smile. 

The Nein launched that afternoon, casting off for the wide ocean. The kid didn’t really know where they were headed to. But anywhere away from the guards was good in their book. Rowan was much more focused on ‘getting their sea legs,’ as Orly described them. They wandered from the front to the steering wheel, and back again. A hand traced the railing as they rocked with the waves.

Beau shouted for the Professor, who was nowhere to be seen. She cursed under her breath, looking at the kid through her peripheral. When she noticed them watching, she cleared her throat. “He was a bad bird.”

Rowan just shrugged.

* * *

They were _very_ sad, the next morning, to hear that nobody had awoken them up for the jellyfish. They pouted around the ship, walking to and fro like the day before, listening in on people’s conversations.

That was one good thing Rowan noticed about the Nein. Sometimes, they forgot the kiddo was even there. Eavesdropping on the adults was slowly growing into their favorite hobby.

Caleb approached Beau that morning and the two spoke quietly for a time. There was something extra secret about their discussion that just made their urge to listen in even greater. In their best Nott immitation, they crept towards the prow of the Mist, rolling one foot onto the next with the creaking of the ship. 

The wizard was turned away when Rowan approached the pair. Beau was focused on a point thousands of leagues off in the distance, only half-looking in Caleb’s direction. “Thank you,” he told her, his face serious but a bit vulnerable, “for not telling anyone about… what I admitted to you. For keeping this a secret.” His expression softened as he turned to her. 

_A secret._ Did Caleb know something about Rowan? Had he gone through their things? Impossible, they slept on their spellbook more often than not. And he didn’t seem like the type to rifle through others’ things. Maybe Nott had, and told him? They were close. And Molly had told Rowan about the time he caught Nott going through Fjord’s things. But they doubted she did that anymore.

No, it was more likely that Caleb had his own secrets. They burned to know what the wizard was keeping to himself.

She scoffed, eyes flicking over to look at him. They held each other’s gaze for a second before she looked away. “Don’t give me that much credit. I still could.”

_Oh._

“ _Nein,_ I don’t think you would.”

Rowan turned away and left, not bothering to listen to the rest of their conversation. They’d heard all they needed to. They didn’t see the little one-ounce Frumpkin owl that Caleb gave to Beau to hold. They didn’t see the two share a moment of solidarity. They just felt a weird sensation in their gut. Was this what betrayal felt like? Would they be safe if someone dropped their secret to Beau? 

Maybe it was safer if Beau just knew. But only if Beau didn’t tell Caleb’s secret, first.

* * *

It took Rowan a grand total of three days for them to catch their sea legs. After that, they were often seen running back and forth from the high up crow’s nest down below the belly of the ship. They had energy in them that the Nein hadn’t seen. The group doubted it was the water or the ship.

For one, Caleb believed their magic was giving them a little pep in their step. “It could also be excitement,” he surmised, watching how Rowan’s eyes and face lit up while Orly explained how to tell the direction based on the currents on his map. It dazzled them to hear how far the ship had traveled from land.

Every mile further away meant it became harder and harder to find them. Made the group safer. Made them feel less like their presence spelled imminent disaster. Every mile further from land made them feel… free.

Fjord agreed. “They just accomplished something that took them three years of trying.”

“Are kids always this energetic when they’re happy?” Beau grumbled, watching as the kid bounced on the balls of their feet.

“You were not an active child?” Yasha asked, looking down at Beau from her seat on the stairs. 

“No! I was insufferable and climbed over everything. But, like, I was the kid and not the adult. Plus, they were quiet up ‘til now.”

From her perch on a barrel, Nott explained, “Healthy kids are active. Happy kids are curious. Good kids know when to hold back.” Looking over the kid from their vantage point, she decided, “They’re a good kid.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Molly looked as the kid traced their path out with a compass, counting the days to their destination. “They don’t argue when they’ve got chores on the ship. And they don’t complain about the hammocks. Or the hard tack.”

“They are also kind,” Caduceus mused. His ears twitched a bit as he listened to Orly mumble on about how the winds and the currents were usually on the same track. “And they’re smart, too. A fast learner. Good listener.”

“They’re not half bad, nah.” Beau smirked. “A much better kid than I ever was. I was smart and fast and listened, but not when I was told or asked to. I did it on my own time.” She puffed herself up. “I was an independent thinker.”

“You were a brat,” Nott said. Pushing herself from the barrel she declared, “ _They’re_ a good kid.”

The monk smirked, patting them on the head. Rowan didn’t know why Beau was trying to be nicer. Maybe it was her newfound role as First Mate. But in their days spent eavesdropping on the adults, Rowan had heard that she’d been nicer before they left land. Before Rowan was picked up. She was just nicer to everyone in the Nein, it seemed. And since that kindness stretched to include Rowan, their tenuous sort-of-sibling relationship had grown to the point where Rowan really _did_ think of Beau as their older sister. They’d always wanted one. 

In those quiet mornings when Caduceus talked to fish and Beau worked out, Rowan would sit beside her and count reps on their fingers. Beau quickly learned the signs for numbers as she nodded along with their silent counting. A few times, the crew walked up onto deck and saw the kid, sitting cross-legged on Beau’s back, the kid giggling in their silent way as the monk used them as extra weight. 

And Caduceus’s earlier comment made a lot of sense— now that Beau had warmed up to Rowan, they got a chance to see her and Molly from a new perspective. They poked each other’s buttons, yes, and would bring up old arguments to the point where half of their conversation was a tense debate. But it was never in anger. Half of the snide comments ended up making the other laugh or spurring on a competitive insult session that could last for hours. Rowan learned many new words from that, and was asked to translate some particularly interesting and rude ones into sign. Which meant they had to make up some new signs, too. 

All in a couple days. It boggled the mind. Especially Fjord’s, who seemed the most exasperated by the cursing flowing from the kid’s fingertips. “Two days,” he grumbled. “And you’re speaking like a sailor.”

Long before the Nein decided to try being pirates for the first time, Rowan had curled into Beau’s arms one night. 

See, Beau had picked up their signed language faster than most of the Nein, even quicker than Caleb. Maybe it was because the wizard often encouraged Rowan to use their magic, maybe it was Beau’s well-trained mind. She once went through all the insults she knew in all the languages the Cobalt Soul had taught her, and more. It was an impressive list. 

And after they still didn’t know what secret Beau was keeping for Caleb, they decided that maybe she was lying before. That she’d keep his secret because they were family, the Nein. And that’s what families do.

So, the night after the fish told Caduceus that they would, of course, alert the Nein to any aquatic trouble, Rowan made their way to her bunk. The hammocks swung in the room, swaying with the ship. They were, in essence, the only thing aboard that reminded everyone of the tossing of the seas. Rowan balanced on one side and patted Beau’s knee. She focused on them, nodding for them to say what they wanted to say. She even leaned forwards, using her excellent sense of balance to stare at the kid’s careful signs. Rowan watched her lips mouth out the signs, translating them into Common under her breath. As they started to explain that they were sorry for lying, she stumbled. “Wait. Hold up What do you mean, you were ‘lying?’” 

Despite her rough voice, Rowan could tell she wasn’t angry. Instead of pulling down, her eyebrows were drawing together, a slow and steady march across her forehead. A moment later, one flicked up— “Wait. No, just keep going. I’ll ask my questions later.” With a wave, she bid them on. 

They continued to sign, a bit haltingly, that they had a name. How would she react? They’d seen her writing notes down in her journal most nights. Sometimes, too, when they stopped for meals. Would she write this down, too?

But after starting, their fingers twisted to finish the tale. They remembered their name. And that they were sorry for keeping it a secret. _It’s just… I didn’t know._ They stopped, hands pausing in midair as they tried to figure out how to explain it all. _I didn’t… I wasn’t sure you all would let me stay._

“Nah, I get that,” Beau grimaced, looking towards the cabin door. “But, like…” She huffed, crossing her arms and leaning back. “Why are you telling me? Why not.. I dunno. Caduceus? You’re always hanging around the pink guy.”

“Oh.” She said, keeping her expression as steady as possible. “So he knows. Who else knows?” A single sign was all it took for her to let out a frustrated noise, grab their head, and start noogying them. “Why does the annoying one get to know before me! Huh, punk!”

Rowan giggled, silently, as Beau ground her fist into their head. Not roughly, no, just enough to muss up their hair as their tussle dissolved into Beau tickling them. With a maniacal laugh, she pinned them against her and blew a raspberry into their hair. “Fuck it. It doesn’t matter who knows. I’m…” she paused, coughing a bit as she cleared her throat. “I’m happy you told me.”

 _Me too,_ Rowan signed. 

When Molly and Yasha had come back from their watch. The tiefing flung the door open and almost fell over laughing, hands clasped to his face. “Oh my gods,” he breathed, almost hyperventilating at that point, clutching a stitch in his side as he silently guffawed. “That is so utterly adorable. Quick, Yasha, wake up Jester so she can capture this in her sketchbook.”

Rolling her multicolored eyes, Yasha dragged Molly over to Jester’s room to do just that. (It would not be mentioned, but Jester would _of course_ use it as blackmail. One of these days.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A filler episode of sorts, wherein I get used to writing this behemoth of a fic. I'm not finished with this, no. On the contrary, ep.100 kicked me out of my funk and inspired me to write more. In upcoming chapters, there will be a good deal of skipping past some of the events the Nein were part of, as the chaos of taking of The Mist spurred a few more vocal members of the Nein to remember that... Rowan is, as Matt once said of Kiri, "A BABY, PRACTICALLY." And that they should probably not be taken into combat all the time.
> 
> Thank you to the MANY people who've read this fic. Holy FUCK was I not expecting to get any traction, let alone over 1000 hits and almost 100 kudos. Thank you to those who bookmarked this, and waited patiently for me to update. 
> 
> COVID shit has been dragging me down-- I do not have it, thankfully, but I am constantly surrounded by small children at my job. And if you know anything about kids, it is that they are GERM MACHINES. The constant lingering anxiety, coupled with the inability to socialize in person dragged me back into some unhealthy depression-like behaviors. (IE; not reaching out to friends despite loneliness; giving up hobbies that keep me sane; floating around with no purpose; sleeping in until noon, going to bed at three a.m. despite work at 8 the next morning; general apathy, a relentless sense of melancholy, nihilism...) Not sure if what I have, and have had in the past, is clinically depression, but damn does it feel like shit. 
> 
> If you're going through something similar, my only recommendation would be to give yourself some slack. I find myself getting worse when I feel like I'm being unreasonable, as though my feelings and subsequent behavior are childish, pathetic, or a performance. When I give myself the benefit of the doubt, I give myself the space to fix things instead of adding another layer of self-hatred and pity on top of an already dark and dismal cake of misery. I'm not a professional, not by any means, but when I accept what I'm feeling and doing and experiencing as current, I can look to the future. If that makes any sense. It helped me, at least.


	10. Captain Avantika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the rather smooth sailing of The Mistake, the Nein finds themselves running straight into a tense encounter.

Meeting Avantika was… not fun.

The Inky Claw Reef was not an easy place to navigate around, let alone through. Rowan half lay, half leaned against the prow of the ship; it was the single place they could watch everything and still be out of the way. Fjord and Orly darted about the deck, shouting commands to the crew. Rowan leaned over the figurehead and kept a watch on the waters. Just below the choppy waters, their eyes spotted coral. And rocks. And a world under the surface, alive and beautiful.

The reef was… they’d never seen something like that before. Their mind harkened back to festivals. Corals popped against the blue of the water like bundles of flowers in market stalls. Sea anemones drifted, their tendrils gentle as ribbons in the breeze. Fish— hundreds of fish all in glittering clusters— shifted and flitted about in mesmerizing shapes. The hawkers and the patrons and the performers in this underwater miracle. Fjord was not there to explain the mystery of it— why was the coral purple? And pink? And a red so vibrant it bordered on impossible? Why did the fish move about in groups? And how did they not rush into each other? Was it a performance, a practiced dance like the circles of twirling folk dancing around the maypole back home? He would be able to explain. Maybe it was boring to him, just another sight he’d seen hundreds of times. But he was busy, so they just watched. 

Even with an arm stretched over the side of the hull, they could not reach the waters. But they tried to imagine the way it would run through their fingers like a river. Yet stronger, more tumultuous. The way it would soak their shirtsleeve and spray their collar. 

They could not tell how much time had passed— they stood up and looked about to ask Caleb— when The Mistake jolted. Coral scraped against the hull of the ship. A deep wailing sound echoed up from the vibrations of the ship. A slow, laborious thing. Terror soaked their hands and feet as they heard the telltale sound of rushing water. They felt the families of fish swim around in a panic in their stomach. 

“We’ve sprung a leak, captain!” Mollymauk shouted, folding his body in half as he peered over the side. How he did not fall into the rainbow waters, Rowan didn’t know. They guessed it was his tail. “Anybody got an idea of how to fix that?”

“ _Ja_ , hold on!” Crimson hair disappeared as Caleb jumped down the stairs two at a time, his footsteps thundering down the wooden boards. 

“I’ve got Mending, so,” Jester added, dashing down, too. 

Rowan froze. They had… an idea. They weren’t sure if it would work. But after the fights they’d seen, they _knew_ that the rest of the Nein was a lot stronger than they were. By a substantial margin. So if Rowan could save Caleb or Jester a spell, that might mean an extra fireball, or another party member popping back up from unconsciousness. 

Taking a quick look about the ship, they decided now was the time to get in everyone’s way..

Rowan skirted around the frantically moving crew and scuttled below in the wake of the other two. Water gushed into the ship from a hole a little larger than Rowan’s torso, flooding the space to their ankles. A hand went instinctually to their pack, fingers squeezing the tome inside. They didn’t have anything that could help. Maybe. 

Their fingers found the right page, whipping through spell after spell after useless spell. Towards the end, though, Rowan had scrawled down a spell their old teacher had taught them. Melancholy memories flooded back as they placed the book atop a barrel and focused. 

“Mending doesn’t work— it’s too big!” Jester sighed. “Do you have something?”

“I think I do,” he said, pulling out his own book and flipping to the right page. He didn’t need to skim through the headers— Caleb Widogast had a perfect memory of his spellbook. 

As he began casting his own ritual, Rowan’s finished. Pride beamed through their chest as a disc of force, about an arm’s breadth wide and a couple inches tall, popped into existence. Tenser’s Floating Disk. Not a very useful spell when you have Jester and Yasha to act as the muscle. But it might be useful for now. 

They very desperately hoped it would work.

Based on the spell’s description, and their old teacher’s words, Tenser’s Floating Disk was supposed to stay horizontal. It was supposed to be a handy spell for carrying things around. It was supposed to be used to keep things off the ground. (It was not supposed to hold your baby sibling off the ground so you could clean the carpet, but Rowan decided to shake that memory away.)

Those were the rules. Tenser’s Floating Disk was supposed to do a lot of things. Floating on its side was definitely not in those rules. They just stood there as Gallen entered the room, tools and stuff in hand, a face of complete and utter confusion at seeing a little kid with a disc of arcane force wobbling a couple degrees to and fro.

Holding their hands up in the air, they closed their eyes and concentrated. They were trying to bend the rules of the arcane. And they had— in a way— once before. They had learned a silent way of casting spells. A technique wizards fifteen times their age had not mastered. 

But this wasn’t working. As Caleb’s hut popped up into existence, the same color as The Mistake’s hull, they sighed. The floating circle of force dropped and shimmered away. It didn’t work. Now Caleb had used up a good deal of his own arcane energy to cast the tiny hut. Now they were tired, too, from casting and concentrating and trying. With a sigh, they looked about the room to notice that Jester had left. 

“That was pretty good there, _kleiner Rabe_.” Caleb said, putting a hand through the dome. “Come here.” 

They trudged into the hut, trying not to look as brokenhearted as they felt. With a nod, he looked over at Rowan. “That was a good try. But we’d have to rewrite the rules of that spell to make it change orientations, _ja_?” Rowan shrugged, leaning against the hull. There was a hole in it about the size of their arm. Thinking to himself, Caleb pulled out a copper wire, and sent a quick Message to Fjord. “I have plugged the bottom of the ship, so I think all of our problems are behind us now.”

His eyebrows knitted together as he listened to the captain’s response. With a beleaguered sigh, he looked over at Rowan. “We’re about to be boarded by pirates.”

Their eyes met his. Oh. Oh _no_. 

“Okay. So you can stay here. That is a good idea. Stay down here,” he muttered, looking about the room. “And we’ll be back—”

 _NO._ Their fingers snapped in the air with the ferocity of their refusal. Stuttering for a moment as their hands started and restarted sentences, Rowan admitted, _I want to go. Wherever you all go._

“ _kleiner Rabe_ , Caleb mumbled, looking at them with furrowed brows, “It… it may not be safe.” They crossed their arms and planted their feet, defiant. “This is not like in the cart, when we’re all together. We might be separated, made to work different tasks. We might not be in the same rooms. We may be thrown in the brig. And…” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “And you are a child. I— we cannot guarantee…” he trailed off. 

_People want to take me,_ Rowan’s fingers reminded him, _because I can do magic._

Swallowing, he nodded. “Yes. Those people. We cannot protect you from those people.” 

_What if they’re nice?_

“I doubt they will be nice, _Kind_.”

Crossing and uncrossing and wringing and twisting their fingers, Rowan rocked back and forth on the balls of their feet. They touched their tome and held it close to them. _But what if you all don’t come back?_

Caleb opened his mouth to respond, and stopped. The two heard the unmistakable sound of Nott scuttling down the stairs. It was hard not to— the nails on her toes made quite a noise. 

“Yeah, I’m inside a giant sphere of glass, basically. With _das Kind_.” 

“Can you just… can you keep it going but not be here? Because we have to go.” She looked at Rowan, a pained expression over her greenish features. “We have to go.”

“Uh, no, I cannot do that. I have to stay here, in this bubble or the boat— ah— sink. Presumably.” 

“Will it sink slowly or quickly?”

From their position beside him, Rowan nodded, gesturing at the whole. _It’s big,_ they reminded Nott. Caleb started guessing at it, worrying the skin around his nails as he went. With a sigh and a shake of their head, Rowan held up a three. They knew nothing of boats, but they desperately wanted this conversation to be over so they could join the rest of the Nein. Before they left. 

“Okay. Well.” She looked at Rowan. “Are you coming?”

 _Yes._

“No.”

Nott looked at the two of them. “Listen, we’ve just got to make this decision on our own. Fjord’s entrusted me to come get you,” she said, looking right at Caleb there, “because we have to go on this boat. With these pirates. Or else we’ll all be killed.”

Caleb’s glance to Rowan was the silent equivalent of ‘I told you so,’ and they were not happy for it.

“Can you just… hand the reigns over to the kiddo, and leave?”

“Nein.” Caleb shook his head. “I cannot do that. That is not how the magic works, Nott. But I could walk away from this. Are we all leaving?” His eyes trailed down to Rowan. “Wh— What… Are there actually pirates about?”

“They’re real pirates, we’re going to get on a boat with them and go to another island. Go see other pirates. And…” she trailed off, holding a hand up to placate Caleb. She turned to look at the kid. “But everything’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine,” she told them, looking Rowan straight in the eye and smiling as much as her gnarled grin could muster. “Because Fjord has convinced them that he’s the guy that we killed before, except with a massive throat laceration.”

Rowan stared. That did not sound effective, at all. But it did sound like Fjord, and the kinds of stories the Nein had cooked up.

“Okay,” he mumbled, unconvinced. “I am trying to process this the best that I can… I am glad that I spent all the time making this… Okay!” With a confident motion that did nothing to cover up his shivering anxiety, Caleb took Rowan’s hand in his. “Let’s go!” And he walked out of the hut.

It shrank and disappeared in a puff of arcane magic. A bit of leaking water crept through the sides of the repair, enough that Gallen seemed both worried and carefree about the whole situation. Though, it could’ve been the pirates aboard the ship. 

“You know,” Caleb whispered to Nott as they walked up and onto deck, “ _Das Kind_ here produced a very good Floating Disc. It could prove useful.”

“Well done,” she said, ruffling their hair. “You should hide behind the rest of us, so that the pirates don’t see you.” She muttered something under her breath and turned herself into a nondescript, halfling woman.

“They are not sneaky like you, Nott,” Caleb sighed. 

_I’ll do my best,_ Rowan told Nott, who gave them a thumbs up as Beau walked over to the trio. Behind her stood Mollymauk and Yasha, fretting a bit. Next to them was a red-headed human in a cook’s uniform, who had the unmistakable posture and grin of Caduceus.

“Hey Caleb. I took Frumpkin and I threw him overboard.” She cracked a smile at Rowan’s deeply concerned face before adding, “So he can spy on things. So. If you do that thing where you get all hazy, you might see shit. Don’t!” She put a hand out. “Not now. Wait until we’re on the rowboats.”

“Oh. Alright.” He looked down at Rowan. “Tally-ho.”

“Let’s all get in the boats,” Jester intoned, lowering down The Mistake’s singular rowboat.

“I think better together than not,” Caduceus agreed, looking at the small ship. He sent a look of concern over to Rowan, who nodded to him. Neither of them were happy they were getting closer to the sea. 

Somehow, the Mighty Nein— all nine of them— fit in the single rowboat. Rowan started standing at the very prow, but was picked up by Yasha and placed at the back. “Hide,” she said, sitting with Caduceus in front of them. Nott clung to Caleb, who was sat next to Beau on the other bench. Mollymauk lounged in the center. The barbarian and the monk did all the rowing, while Jester giggled and sat in a poof of skirt next to Molly. Rowan peeked through the gap between the two tall members, staring at the unmistakably wrong figure of someone they’d seen the Nein kill only three days previous.

Now that they were above decks and could see the pirates’ boat, Rowan stared at the enormous ship. It had three masts, which seemed excessive but they knew nothing of nautical speed. Little doors in the side of the hull presented canons, all aimed outwards and gleaming. They remembered the sound of iron creaking against wood down in the hold and shuddered. That was a lot of canons. 

“It’s called the gun port,” the dead-not-dead captain said in Fjord’s voice, gesturing to the area of the boat Rowan’s eyes were directed to. 

“I’m so proud of you!” Mollymauk giggled as he looked at Fjord. “Look at you, all sauve and knowledgeable. Will wonders never cease?”

“Shut it,” he bit back, grinning nonetheless.

As the party of rowboats reached the other ship, the crew of The Squall Eater launched a huge net over the side. It broke the water as it slapped the hull, making great sloshing and smashing sounds as it tumbled. Rowan could smell the gunpowder aboard The Squall Eater as the spray of the ocean drifted past. 

An older woman in another boat gestured for the rowboats to stop; the trio steered so the sides bumped against the enormous ships’ hull. “After you,” she gestured.

Well. There was no hiding Rowan now. The group just silently hoped Captain Avantika would assume Rowan was just another halfling. 

“Do you have any magic?” Yasha said, looking down at them. “To change your form?” When they shook their head, she sighed. “Oh.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll go first,” Fjord said, grabbing the netting.

“I think it’s women and children first, actually,” Nott added, serious. She looked over at Rowan. 

“No,” Fjord said, an eyebrow raising to the very aggressive crew above. “That’s not right at all.”

Beau looked at the crew above and nodded. “Okay.” Looking over at Rowan, she added, “Stick close to me, kiddo. I’ll punch anyone who gets too close.” 

It was nerve wracking, climbing up the netting. As of late, Rowan had done a lot more climbing up ropes than they’d ever imagined. But climbing up to the crow’s nest, where you could see the deck of the ship below you, was nothing compared to climbing the outside of a ship. Where the only thing that would greet your fall was the churning of the ocean and the groaning of an unrelenting hull. 

It was no less nerve wracking on deck, either. Just over ten figures stood on The Squall Eater, looking as worn and weathered as the rocky crags of the island behind them. Unlike the Nein, whose clothing went from colorful to obscenely colorful, these peoples’ attire looked more cobbled together than Mollymauk’s jacket. The central figure, though, seemed to have her own sense of style. 

Elven and proud, Captain Avantika stood towards the center of the group, her wild, reddish hair flickering about in the sea breeze. Her brown skin was a couple tones lighter than Beau’s and Rowan’s own, but there was a tone to it that seemed more golden, sun-colored, almost warm. A scarf whipped about her neck as she stood there, watching the Nein mount the deck. 

Rowan did their very best not to imagine where all the stains were from.

“Well hello, Captain,” Avantika said, looking over at the disguised Fjord with a piercing stare. “So. You have returned from your journey, Jawgrasp?” Her accent lilted over the words, making them seem softer than they should.

“ _Oui_ ,” Fjord said, coughing to clear his throat. “We… suffered heavy damage and casualties, but we have returned.” He smirked, raw voice breaking for just a second. “Successful.”

“Successful?” Well wondrous.” She put a hand out, gentle and graceful. “Please, give me the item I requested.” There was an edge to her that Rowan couldn’t place. After staring at her for a second they decided. Like Molly’s swords; pretty and sharp.

“Sorry,” Beau said, licking her lips a bit. “When he means successful, he means… unsuccessful.”

Rowan ducked behind Beau’s frame as Avantika rounded on the monk. “Who are you?” 

“Um…” she mumbled, fiddling with the ribbon on her staff. “I’m…”

“Captain,” Avantika glared at Fjord. “It would appear to me that you have brought The Mist all this way—” she gestured to the Inky Claw Reef— “across our specific route through the reef with a crew that I have not met.” Her eyes rounded on Beau, then on Jester, then on Nott, and finally down to Rowan. The kid gulped. “Please.” She smiled, her flashing like dagger tips. “Introduce me.”

“We came across some… heavy fire and had to rebrand the ship. To The Mistake.”

“This surprises me not at all,” she said, flashing her eyes back to glare at Fjord.

“May I introduce—”

“Tracy,” Beau said. Rowan grew very confused and very worried. The Nein would have to remember all of these names. Still standing behind a magicked Nott, Rowan began taking mental notes of everyone's aliases. 

Caleb, too, stared at her and then muttered, “Oh, uh… Phillip.”

Yasha became _Janet_ , Mollymauk became _**John**_ , Caduceus shifted to Cornelius the cook, Jester was ‘Pirate Sapphire’ (who Avantika declared adorable), Nott decided to become Gilligan and…

“What about this little runt you brought on? The one behind… Tracy?” Avantika’s words sent ice across everyone’s faces. For a brief second the Nein had almost thought their ruse would be a success. Despite the bumbling nature of everyone’s falsified introductions, there was the air that they almost could make it. 

Eyes and faces turned to Rowan, who took a deep breath of salt air in. With unsteady hands, they moved the collar of their shirt down and tilted their head up. In the light of day, the scar was plain and obvious on their neck. After counting to five, their head snapped down to stare at Avantika’s leather boots, not looking up. 

The captain nodded, daggers now for teeth and eyes, and strolled over to Fjord. She loped around the group, walking circles around everyone, taking it all in. With her arms folded, she began, “Jawgrasp.” Fjord gulped. “So you come to me with a _very_ new crew, and you tell me that you are successful— but yet you are not. Describe to me what transpired…” Choosing her words carefully, she accented her footsteps by tapping on Rowan’s head. “To prevent you from acquiring this… thing that you have paid for. And how,” Avantika asked as she sidled over to their captain, “did this terrible, terrible thing happen to you?” She reached up and touched the side of his neck. Where the illusion should’ve been.

The jig was up.

“I must commend you,” she said as she stepped back, daggers for teeth and eyes and hands. “It has been a very long time since someone has been so bold with such massive balls to come onto my ship.” She grinned. “And think that perhaps I got where I am today by not seeing through a few paltry illusions.” 

“Well,” Fjord sighed, losing the illusory form around him and putting his hands up in a gesture of mock defeat. He winked at her, adding in a hushed tone, “My balls are quite large. I must commend you on your perceptiveness.” 

Jester and Mollymauk couldn’t help giggling. Until the group all heard the unmistakable click of metal on metal, and felt the barrels of something cold and metallic on their necks and backs. They stopped giggling.

 _Guns_ , Rowan thought— looking at the rifles and revolvers and pistols of all kinds of make and model they had no idea how to parse. The Squall Eater’s crew all pointed some kind of firearm at the Nein, faces hardened with suspicion and ire. They’d seen roving Crownsguard carrying them. Great metal contraptions that exploded and shot bits of death. Thankfully, the closest they’d been to one was dozens of yards away. Until now. More than one was trained at them, at the group. If they’d felt tense before, their whole body froze, a rigor mortis of terror. 

“Well. I guess now that we are out in the open,” She smirked, crossing her arms in front of her. “Who the fuck are you and how did you come in possession of The Mist?” She glared as Nott opened her mouth to instinctually bark out ‘Language!’ The goblin snapped her jaw shut with a click.

“That is a wonderful story. One that I would love to share.” Fjord drew himself up to his fullest height and said, louder than before. “You have the honor of being in the company of The Mighty Nein.” 

“But there are only eight of you. Unless you count… the literal child you have brought aboard my ship.”

“We do indeed, Captain,” Mollymauk said, putting a hand around Rowan’s shoulders. “They’re one of us.”

“It’s a long story of how we all met, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to tell it ,or further converse, unless we have an atmosphere of equal exchange here,” he said, nodding to the guns, “and this hostile act is not a step in the right direction.” He nodded to her. “Captain.”

“So. You are captain of that ship. Are you suggesting that we parlay?”

“Say yes, Fjord,” Beau muttered, looking intently at him. “Say yes.”

“Very well. Since you’ve been so forthright…” Her eyebrow twitched. “Tracy, Phillip, Sapphire, Cornelius, Janet, John, and Gilligan,” she stretched her hands out, “Welcome aboard The Squall Eater. I am Captain Avantika.” The pretense of welcomeness dropped. “Now, the fact that you are here, that you’ve made your way across the reef, that you managed to best our sister ship and the crew on board… which I assume have all been dispatched?” She looked intently over at Rowan, then at Fjord. 

“Indeed.”

“Well. Then my next question is, what are you planning here? Why have you gone to all this trouble to kill my crew, to bring the ship right back to me and then, to be perfectly honest,” she looked back at Beau, then Fjord, “prostrate yourself before us?”

“Well. I imagine there must be a hefty reward for the item that you seek.” 

Rowan started to miss bits of the back and forth between Captain Avantika and Fjord. A weird buzzing sound started to crowd its way into their ears and make it sound like everyone was far away. Like their head was underwater, and everyone else could speak normally. It didn’t help that Jester and Mollymauk and Caduceus and Yasha and Caleb kept glancing down at them with terrified expressions. 

“As it stands, The Mighty Nein,” there are two paths you can walk. You can, one, live under the crew and prove yourselves as both skilled and as trustworthy, if our goals indeed align.” She looked around the group and added. “Perhaps even join us, if the deeds please me. Or two,” she said, suddenly turning to face Fjord directly with a click of her boots. “We weigh your corpses down with rocks and leave you here amongst the reef.”

Now half-hiding behind Mollymauk, Rowan gulped. “Those are the only options there?” Jester asked stepping a bit in front of Rowan, too.

“I’m afraid so, little Sapphire.” Avantika’s dagger smile turned to stare at the tieflings, then down at the kid. “So Captain Fjord. What’ll it be? There is no negotiation, I’m sorry, but the choice you make now —”

Nott piped up, “If you were to kill us, you would not find the location of the item.”

“Based on the fact that you’ve brought yourselves this far to tell me that you have it, I would assume it’s somewhere either on your ship across the way— that I currently am in possession of— or it’s on your person.” She leaned down to look Nott in the face. “So we could rummage through your bodies to find it afterwards.” 

“How far would that rummaging entail? Just curious how far you would look…” Beau asked. She was blushing and mumbling, but serious nonetheless. The Captain gives her a look, but flicked her eyes back to Fjord. 

“That is not necessary. We would absolutely love to prove our loyalty in your service. It’s a resounding yes, of course.” His weak smile said otherwise, but Avantika did not pry. She must’ve decided it didn’t matter how truthful their tongues were, so long as she could control them. With a clap and a quick welcome, the guns were pulled from them and the crew began to back away.

While Nott was busy asking about the quarters, Jester and Mollymauk were saluting and laughing at Beau’s bumbling attempt to be coy and flirtatious, and Caleb was staring daggers into Fjord’s back, Rowan squished themselves against Yasha’s leg and looked up. They’d need a rock in all these turbulent waters. And as the barbarian looked down, her mismatched eyes a bit concerned as well, Rowan realized they’d all be in a bit of a pickle— brine and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's taken me a while to write for a few reasons. Namely, that rewatching the episode means starting and stopping the video to try and figure out what the cast is saying! (This is all from the pirate-themed live show wherein all of the microphones decided not to work :/ Which means it's VERY difficult for me to process what's going on, and who's saying what.)
> 
> That being said, I'm also wrestling with the desire to time jump over certain points that I don't see will impact things later on. I'm all caught up, which means I've been rethinking important plot beats... but nobody really wants to read every beat of everything the Nein does again. Do they??? I definitely don't believe so. 
> 
> P.S. ==> Thanks again to tumbling_into_chaos for your German help! 
> 
> (I have a German Oma (grandma), but she didn't teach my mom anything... which means I've only picked up bits and pieces over the years. Couple that with studying a very different language (Japanese) in my spare time... and I find the gendered nouns of German to be VERY counter-intuitive. What do you mean a house has a gender? *Insert wild confusion here.*)


	11. An Unwanted Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nein discusses their game-plan regarding Avantika, Rowan grows increasingly worried aboard The Squalleater, and Orly becomes a temporary turtle uncle.

As Avantika sauntered away from the Nein, flipping a hand in the air and calling a command to her crew, Rowan shouldered themselves between Beau and Caleb. The sensation of being watched— by the crew of The Squalleater, whose gazes they did not understand nor welcomed— had started to grow too much. Memories of worried comments, often from Fjord or Beau or Nott, flitted around their mind. Would any of these people, at a moment’s notice, take them? Take them away from the Nein? Would they do something to them? They couldn’t quite wrap their head around exactly _what_ these pirates could do. A shaking hand found Beau’s, who accepted it without a word. Over their fuzz-filled head, Fjord looked over at Yasha. “You okay with this,” he asked, shifting his body to block the group off in a rough circle.

She shrugged, looking at him with her intense, mismatched eyes. “Well I don’t know if I trust her, or what she wants.” With a shrug, she added, “Maybe you should ask her if she knows what it does?”

The Nein kept talking about an orb— a sphere, a cloven crystal. Fjord was involved, somehow, but they couldn’t really put it all together. Their brain started to fuzz out as their eyes slid past the arms and torsos of the Nein and towards The Squalleater’s crew, whose rugged faces and rough appearances reminded them. Certain, unsavory people, wanted them. Rowan had believed it to be their dangerous magic and its inevitable destruction. But the Nein had given them a second worry. Kidnapping was something pirates did, right?

Leaning into the circle further, Caleb whispered, “What is, ah, our plan here? We go with this for the time being… and then when the moment is right, we run away? Or are we pirates now?”

Beau added, “I second that question.” She gripped their hand a little tighter, and Rowan squeezed back.

“I third that question.” Mollymauk leaned to the side. “However Romantic piracy sounds, it’s not exactly a… reputable occupation.” He eyed the kid. “Not to mention certain unique hazards we have to manage.”

Caduceus looked around, catching Rowan’s eyes. “The little one’s staying with us, though. They’re safer with us.” Rowan nodded, shifting to plaster themselves against Beau’s side even more. If Mollymauk and Caduceus— who never seemed flustered in the slightest— were worried for them? Fear raced up their spine as they imagined the eyes of pirates staring down at them. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Mollymauk agreed, nodding. “Just in case we, you know, steal a ship and become pirates in a feat of wondrous irony.”

“Fair enough.” Fjord smirked. “I feel like we can find out what we need and maybe slip away.”

“But we aren’t going to run— we won’t run if we don’t know what this thing is inside of you? I’m assuming… you want it out of you, right?” Beau looked at him, gesturing to her chest. 

A bit pink, Fjord admitted, “No, I actually kind of like having it in me.”

“So we just get the information and then we run?”

“How about,” Fjord ventured, rubbing the back of his neck, “we keep an eye on the people around. Watch what they’re doing. Rigging, right? Try and familiarize yourself with working a boat. Can’t run away on our vessel if we can’t sail it well enough.”

Caleb nodded. “So, _ja_ , for the time being we are absolutely pirates. But when the opportunity is right, we leave. With everyone. But for now, we have to convince them we are partners.”

“Sure. Yeah.” He looked at Caleb’s direct gaze. “Partners.” His shoulders tensed, rising a few millimeters towards his ears. He shot Jester a look— which she returned, veiled in enthusiasm.

“The captain would like you to join her in her quarters below, please.” Vera said, cutting through a thick silence. 

Fjord outwardly rolled his eyes at that and said, “It’ll be our pleasure.” He looked to the rest of the group as they headed off, though, worry lining his face. His skin looked almost greener than usual, if that could be possible. As none of them had said anything to Rowan, they followed without letting go of Beau’s hand until they reached Avantika’s chambers. 

For a moment, Rowan couldn’t see. It was dark— so dark it seemed lightless. But in a few moments, though, their eyes adjusted as the sunlight bled from the surroundings and was replaced by torchlight. A room smaller than most tavern berths greeted them. It did, though, seem enormous compared to the tiny rooms aboard The Mistake. Mismatched carpets lined the ground, all overlaying each other to create an almost rhythmic lack of pattern or cohesion. Avantika sat in the center, her feet up on an enormous, wooden desk. Papers dotted its surface, some curled or curling with the humidity in the air. 

As they entered the room, Rowan felt Beau let go of their hand. They tried not to look adrift. 

“Please, fill the space,” Avantika said. She gestured a hand lazily about the room as she crunched on a tropical fruit. Several other foodstuffs, namely hard cheeses, dried meats, and fruits sat in a bowl by her feet. Avantika’s eyes flitted over each of the Nein’s faces in turn, landing on Rowan’s. “I see you are keeping the child with you.”

“We’re sort of a package deal, the nine of us.” Molly put an arm around Jester and Yasha, smirking.But he seemed to bristle at her words, a manic smile settling onto his lavender face. 

“Mind if we partake of your… beautiful spread here?” Fjord gestured at the fruits.

“By all means, please.” She pushed the bowl of things at the group, who all started to partake. Caleb picked something out of the bowl, but passed it to Nott instead of eating it himself. She seemed not to mind. On the contrary, she seemed intent on devouring the entire spread herself. 

“Now that you’ve agreed to become our friend, I would like to see the first test of you proving your loyalty.” Avantika’s dagger-like grin returned as she stared Fjord down. “You have this item I require? It is on you? Please, Captain Fjord.”

“Tusktooth.” Rowan could almost feel the gratified smile radiating off Jester’s face.

“Will you tell me if I call you Tusktooth?” Avantika swivelled so her feet fell off the table and thundered on the wooden floor. The smirk she wore widened as she noticed Rowen startle ever so slightly. “Alright then, Captain Tusktooth, please tell me.” 

“I have it on very good authority that an island, surrounded by the Deeprow Reef, is housing the item that you seek.” At her prodding Fjord pointed at a map of the Menagerie Coast, indicating a specific group of blobs. Rowan couldn’t make out the words as the group all stepped towards the desk. They took the opportunity to hide along the wall with Caleb. “If you make your way to the Deeprow Reef, right off the shores of Vide Cay, you’ll find an unguarded, old, ruined fort. The item is being protected and held there.”

Merciless, Avantika chuckled. “So you stole my ship, and came all this way to tell me that this item was not in your possession. And is in another place. Why were you coming to the island?”

“Captain,” Fjord said, his voice dripping with charisma, “I hope you understand that this is not my first rodeo. If I were to tell you everything I know, right now, why would you keep me alive?”

“Very well. Let’s trade a bit.I had recently hired an individual known as Jamedi Cosko— a very well-established adventurer, delver of dungeons. He is to spend a few days to see what there is to be found on this island. You see, this sphere needs to return. In the jungles here is a temple from long ago, that has been since refitted by its current denizens. This thing I seek must be reunited with something at the very bottom of the temple.” After a small pause, she looked intently at Fjord. “Does the name… Uk’otoa mean anything to you?”

Cogs spun in Fjord’s mind, but his face remained perplexed. “Sure as fuck doesn’t. Could you say that again, slower?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. You have a very thick accent. Sometimes it is difficult to… I am losing a couple of things here and there, no offense.” Caleb added.

Avantika threw a dagger— it all happened so quickly. One minute she was glaring at him, and the next a dagger was vibrating in the wooden wall, a piece of his crimson hair floating down to the floor. 

“It wasn’t a lie, darling, we have trouble understanding him, too.” Mollymauk smiled. “It’s a problem with her, too.” He gestured to Jester, who giggled.

She piped up, asking, “No but really, what did you say? What was the name?”

“Uk’otoa, the great leviathan.” Keeping her eyes on Fjord, Avantika added, “You see, I am the chosen of Uk’otoa.” For a moment, it looked as though she might begin stripping. But instead, she loosened her scarf and revealed a tattoo that sat on her sternum. Just below her collarbone was a yellow circle with a black slit in the center. It looked… like an eye. 

Rowan blanched, a hand coming up to their own neck on reflex. Avantika’s eyes flitted to them for a moment before continuing. She began to divulge the history of this eldritch god, her excitement accelerating her speech as she laid out the finer points of its storied past. “I will bring him back,” she declared at last, “and with his blessing, these seas will be mine. Let me tell you, you’ve put in with the proper lot.”

“So say we all. Yeah…” Fjord shot Caleb a worried look. The wizard was focused more on processing and remembering what the captain had just said, his face scrunched up in thought. 

“So, I’ve shown you mine.” She flicked the scarf off her shoulders and retied it. “You show me yours.” 

“I mean, are we all supposed to get naked now?” Jester asked, looking at the group. Her eyebrows danced on her forehead, a jig of mischief. “I mean, we’ve all seen each other naked. Except Caduceus. And the kiddo.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad idea, per say.” Avantika did not seem to flinch as Mollymauk unlaced several loops on his shirt. 

“You have some secret tattoos that we haven’t seen yet?” Beau whispered to Fjord, who shook his head.

Nott joined in on the whispers, adding, “Maybe we should come clean and form an actual partnership with this person. If we keep lying to her, we’re going to lose.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not playing this all the way out. That shit’s in my body, okay?” 

Beau looked over at the captain. “Avantika. How can you be certain that you’re the only chosen one?” 

“Well I’m not certain, but I’m the one who has the dreams.”

“You have wet dreams! You have wet dreams, too!” Jester bounded over to Fjord, grabbing his forearm in her excitement.

“She— oh my gods this is fantastic— you’re connected!” Molly started giggling.

Coughing to clear his throat, Fjord admitted, “ I-I’ve had dreams of being deep underwater. There’s a giant eye that sees me. I hear a voice speaking to me, but I can’t reply. Does that ring any bells?”

“So, Uk’otoa has spoken to you, as well.” Avantika smiled to Fjord as the group started to look between the pair. “Perhaps it was not some strange coincidence you found your way here?”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps this is destiny. I must tell you, I am very eager to see what this leads to.” Taking in a deep breath, Fjord said, “I haven’t been entirely honest. The item you seek does not lie in Vide Cay. It does not reside there. I have protected it in an alternate dimension. If we can work together, I would like to accompany you to this temple you speak of. I would like to see it find its resting place.” He opened his hand and an image of the orb on Avantika’s chest floated above his palm. 

“Also, for a point of clarification, we aren’t some dumbass crew he hired. We totally murdered all of your guys. So.” Beau crossed her arms in a way that accentuated her muscles.

“Quite true, unpleasant one. Even the tiny one got a few good shots in.” He cocked his hips so his scimitars flashed as he shot an equally dazzling smile to Rowan. 

With palpable excitement, a passion borne of adrenaline and circumstance, Avantika cackled. She leaned forwards and grasped the table with her gloved hands. She looked around the group again, and as always her eyes laid to rest on Fjord. “I’m very curious to see where this leads as well. Let us stay the night on board. We’ll wait for Jamedit to return, if he’s found the course to the temple. If this is indeed the kismet you speak of, what better way to prove your loyalty to me and my ship than to be the ones to go into this temple with me?”

“ _Ja,_ absolutely. This is an advantageous moment for all of us. If we can help you and your hentai cult achieve your goal— we will all come out as winners. This is true if my name is Phillip.” The group looked at him.

Mollymauk and Nott piped up at the same time, a look of exasperated friendliness and surefire trust on their respective faces. “It really isn’t—” the tiefling grumbled as Nott shouted “It is!”

Uncaring, Avantika clapped her hands twice. Vera entered the room and took orders to arrange for a few rooms the Nein could stay in. Specifically rooms that would mean kicking out rightful crew members. Jester shoved a few fruits in her pockets on the way out. The last to exit the room, Fjord’s eyes hesitated on a small shrine above the door. He mouthed something that looked like ‘Uk’otoa,’ but it wasn’t clear. Wondering whether or not it was a good idea to piss off the people aboard, Rowan floated behind the group. None of the others seemed to care, though. 

“Captain Tusktooth?” Jester asked as they all crammed themselves into a singular room. “Doesn’t your weapon have an eyeball on it?”

“It does. But I don’t want her to know that. I know that as soon as she has it, there’s very little reason to keep us around. Caduceus, would you mind telling me… did you get a feel of anything coming from the captain? I dunno, you seem to make these strange comments about how people feel and stuff. I thought maybe you were a mind-reader.”

“You are very insightful, Caduceus, darling,” Mollymauk agreed, lounging on the bed.

“I was really just listening for that word so I could play the speak along game…” He shrugged and grinned, lopsided and calm. 

“If I may,” Nott added, “When we find this Uk’otoa—”

Caduceus muttered a quiet, “Uk’otoa…” as his grin spread from something small to something amused.

“—You have this thing inside of you. Is your goal to get rid of this thing inside of you, to commune with it, to bow down and serve this monster?”

Caleb nodded. “I feel like we are learning a lot about you, and not from you.” 

Jester poked around the room, running her hands over the wood walls. “We should, like, use your dome to protect us from watchers, Caleb.” He shook his head, and reminded them that it was protection from harm, only.

Molly’s face lit up. “Thaumaturgy,” he said, his gaze locking with Jester’s and Caduceus’s. The trio started to cover the Nein’s discussion in whispers. Caduceus’s just kept repeating Uk’otoa’s name over and over again. Mollymauk’s were all variations of laughter— some high-pitched and others a bit manic. Jester’s, though, were a mixture of quiet and loud voices all proclaiming one word. Penis.

Fjord, doing his best to mask the color rising on his cheeks, said, “I’ll tell you what I know. And that’s that I see visions, sometimes. There’s a giant eye, and I hear a voice speaking to me. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t know where I am, if it’s the past or my future. But I feel like it happened that night when my old ship exploded, and before I found myself on the shore with the sword. I feel like those things are all connected. When I saw the sphere, it reminded me of that eye. It’s happened like three or four times.” He coughed. “I didn’t think to comment on them because they’re just fucking dreams.”

“Language, Fjord.”

Caleb nodded at Molly’s remark. “Yeah, okay. Were you able to summon scary, transparent tentacles before that explosion on your old boat? And those dreams happened? Were you vomiting seawater before you had those dreams? Or making a sword come out of the palm of your hand? Before that explosion?”

“No. Not to my knowledge...”

“Those aren’t fuc— those aren’t effing dreams, man.” Beau pointed out, perching at the foot of the bed.

“No judgements here,” Caleb says, his eyes roving about the group. That blue gaze stayed on Rowan’s face for an uncomfortably long beat. A singular sliver of worry shot through their heart before he turned to Fjord. Was he going to ask them to come clean, too? “Is it safe to say that you have been under-sharing with us?”

“No, you’re right. I have under-shared, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t think it was… relevant.”

“Seems pretty relevant,” Caleb pointed out.

“Well yeah, fucking now!”

“Language!” Nott and Molly locked eyes. They smirked at each other, now they were on the same page. 

“Personally, I was thinking about getting the hell out of here.” Caleb held up a hand. “But. We are here for you, and you want to understand what is happening to you.

“I know what you mean, and that you want to leave. I do as well. But we need to play this game a little longer.”

Nott nodded. “The point is, we’re here to support you in finding out what’s going on. Inside. And what’s going on in your past, and if that means we have to go fight some shit, we’re with you. And if you say ‘Let’s run,’ we’ll run. But we’ve got your back, big guy.” After a beat, she added, “As long as I don’t have to swim.”

Beau “Avantika seems like she’s had this gift and these visions for quite some time. Maybe you could learn something about yourself. Talk to her a little bit.”

“So are we okay to play this out, see how it goes, and at least get on land to see if we can find this temple this crazy bitch talks about?” Fjord looked around at the group. Most seemed to nod their assent. 

Yasha added, “I feel like we should ask her more questions. Like maybe she knows if there are more spheres. And how to find them, if they are in the temple...” She shrugged. 

“She’s coming with us,” Nott pointed out. “We can ask her on the way. Yasha, maybe you can intimidate her with your girth and…” She gestured to Yasha’s clothing, “...Darkness.”

“Nah, this is not a person you can intimidate.” Cad dropped his Thaumaturgy to add, “From what little I gleaned, I imagine vanity is the way to play this one. Some people just want to talk. And I think she just wants somebody to talk to. That’s the vibe I get.”

Beau sighed. “We should get better at that. Talking.”

“Or we can murder everybody on the boat!” Nott grinned, showing off her pointy teeth.

“How about we don’t— as a first priority here? Just as a rule of thumb?” Molly sighed, rolling over so he was watching the group upside-down.

“For now, we are allies, _ja_?”

“We work together to figure out Fjord’s ball problem. And if we have to… eventually...” He drew his scimitar, smirking at Fjord. “There’ll be more of us than there are of her on land.”

Fjord smiles. “Thanks, y’all. I… It’s going to be weird.”

“Yeah. We can do weird,” Yasha said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

The next couple of days were uneventful— the hours upon hours of repetition. Of the rocking of waves. Of waiting for Jamedi to appear on the shoreline and signal that his work was finished. Of wandering around deck with a bucket and brush in their hands. 

“Scrub the deck,” was the single instruction Avantika gave them. On their behalf, Mollymauk had tried to argue that— despite their silence, small stature, and frail look— Rowan was quite capable aboard a ship. They climbed the rigging well and had a good eye for dark clouds on the horizon. “I don’t need a lookout,” she clapped back, tossing the brush towards Rowan. It clattered against the wood before it skidded to a halt against their feet. “I need my deck clean.”

What it meant, really, was that Rowan was in the thick of things all the time. It didn’t help that their little frame would go largely unnoticed for an hour or two as they worked the brush back and forth with the grain of the wood. And as they were often not seen, they were often stumbled over. Nott had literally tripped against them, a foot going straight into the bucket of dirt-filled, soapy water at their side. The goblin and the bucket had tumbled ass over tea kettle onto the deck. 

“FUCK!” She kicked the bucket off and blinked around. “Oh. Uh… you didn’t hear that from me,” she said, blushing under her greenish skin. “And don’t swear!”

Rowan just pointed to their throat. 

“You know what I mean!” 

Oh, Rowan did. If there was anything new they were learning, it’s just how many bad words sailors had for everything. And while most of the Nein were trying their best not to curse quite as often around the kiddo, the crew of The Squalleater had zero qualms about it. Even Orly— old and wise and wizened as the tortoise was— mumbled colorful curses under his breath when a knot he lashed came loose. 

The real question was… how to sign all of it.

* * *

It felt like betrayal the first time the Nein told them to stay on board.

It sizzled in their throat as Rowan waited on the prow, watching as the Nein headed off to the island with Avantika and Jamedi. They didn’t even _like_ the two pirates; they utterly despised Avantika now. She’d shown how little she cared about everyone other than Fjord over the last couple days, and the kid was not having it. But anger stewed in their belly as as everyone’s colorful blobs disappeared into the distance. The Nein retreated through the trees. Something inside them reached up, wrapped its fingers around their throat, and tightened. They couldn’t breathe through the stress of it as the dark blurs that were the Mighty Nein disappeared into the rain forest flora. 

See, Rowan had figured out two things. Firstly, that the crew of The Squalleater was dangerous. Yeah, the Nein was a force to be reckoned with, but these people were a separate case. The Nein was closer to a bunch of older siblings than an octet of adults. The crew, on the other hand, stared and jeered and made comments that sent ice into their stomach and their face ablaze. 

Secondly, leaving them aboard The Mistake with Orly… it set a precedent. Now that the Nein had left them behind once, they’d do it again. Yeah, they’d been around for other fights. But those were circumstances where the Nein couldn’t put Rowan aside and do things on their own. This was the first. Scuffing a shoe against the hull, they glared at the rainforest. The sounds of the birds and the bugs made them want to scream back, but they knew that fantasy was impossible. So instead, they fixed their attention on their fingers, and went through every curse they knew. And all the new ones they’d made up aboard the ship.

Which, despite bumbling attempts at curbing some of the coarser words that sprang from the Nein’s lips, everyone’s speech was sort of appropriate. They were, temporarily at least, sailors. And sea farers aren’t known for being sweet tongued and clean of speech.

The curses shook from their hands as they stood, wordless, aboard The Mistake. They _knew_ that the island was dangerous. They _knew_ that the rest of the Nein was significantly stronger than they were. They _knew_ these things. It still stung. Thoughtless, their fingers started to form the signs for spells, instead. Lights sparked between Rowan’s fingers. Last night, they finally finished copying down Dancing Lights from Caleb’s spellbook. They knew the lights could glow bright enough to be seen in the day’s light. They couldn’t risk anyone seeing. So they shoved that part of themselves down to keep the sparks from lighting up.

It clawed at them until Rowan felt someone’s presence next to them.

Orly didn’t know what the kid was doing, but he knew put out when he saw it. Their little frame was almost shaking with all those pent-up feelings. He saw a small glimmer between their fingers, one he’d noticed before. It didn’t have the same color as Caleb’s, or Mollymauk’s, or Jester’s, or Caduceus’s magic. Theirs were amber-colored, amethyst-colored, sapphire-colored, and jade-colored. The kid’s magic matched their eyes, in a way. A light aqua, the color at the edge of the sky. Like turquoise, or aquamarine.

So he’d lumbered over to where the kid hung half-off the railing. He followed their hollow gaze toward the trees and the bushes. Toward a long sought after sliver of green in the literal sea of blue. “It’s… not their fault,” he mumbled, the sound rumbling from the old tortle. “They need to protect you. Sometimes,” he added, putting a clawed, gentle hand on their shoulder, “adults choose to leave someone behind. To keep ‘em safe.”

Would they have taken Rowan if they had better spells? They’d prepared all of their favorites— Thunderwave, and Ray of Frost, and Chill Touch. Caleb had tagged those spells as both ‘damage’ and ‘control.’ Was that not enough? To hurt and to deter? What more did they need to do? The kid stared at their hands. These were hands that could cast despite Silence. Cast despite being half-choked by a water elemental. Cast despite a set of manacles— they’d tested it all. Why was that still not enough?

And if they were ready to push Rowan aside now, wouldn’t they do it for real once the Nein hit dry land?

“It’s funny,” Orly continued, tracing the lines on Rowan’s palm. “These hands are good hands.” The point of his claw traced a triangle, following the curve of their thumb to turn towards their fingers. “They’re useful hands.”

Rowan closed their hand around his claw. _But they’re attached to a useless kid,_ they thought. 

Rowan waited silently. They did not sign to the tortle; Orly wouldn’t understand. They didn’t cast, either— the Nein agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to use magic around Avantika’s crew. And there they were, in the surf, on the beach, aboard the ship docked next to theirs. There were a couple of them still aboard, even. The huge lady, for one.

Closing the rest of his claws around Rowan’s hand, Orly stuttered, “Why don’t we… go below deck. See what kinds of foods we need. Mayhap that… pink-haired firbolg left notes to tell us— which fruit we can eat and which ones we can’t.” He pulled on their arm, watching as they slunk off the railing. Kids weren’t his speciality. But when most of the crew would still have their first baby scutes, he reasoned there wasn’t much of a difference between the child’s age and, say, Jester’s or Molly’s. All three of them acted as though they’d never swam a sea current, anyways.

Landlubbers, he thought as he pulled the kiddo towards the kitchen, _never even met the ocean._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably mark a change in tone / focus for this fic... I'm running out of steam rewriting the entire series of events. As we all probably know, a lot of little things happen that are not significant to the overall plot. And then some small things come back to haunt us. In the future, I'm going to try and focus on specific things that immediately inspired me to write things from this particular perspective. So while I'm moving away from the blow-by-blow methodology I've been using so far, I hope I'll be able to put out chapters that are more unique, interesting, and faster to update! (Especially because I have quite a few of them stored up that I haven't had the chance to get back to... since I wrote a vast amount of this fic from when I originally wrote it a year ago that I... haven't gotten the chance to look at in a long while. 
> 
> Like walking in the tunnel to Xorhas, for one.
> 
> Or meeting The Bright Queen.
> 
> Or... many, many wonderful scenes that I have many more ideas about.)


	12. The First Night Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan is not happy when the Mighty Nein left them aboard The Mistake for the night. They were not happy that the Nein was going somewhere without them. Yeah, the boat was in view of the island the whole while, but it was the principal of the thing.

Coming to consciousness after a night’s restless sleep was difficult. Rowan had to push themselves awake but not throw themselves from the hammock. Forcing the sadness and discontent that lingered on them to the back of their mind, Rowan slung a leg out of their blankets. Had the rocking of the ship provided any comfort? No. Had the whispering and lapping of the waves driven them to sleep? No. Had their nightmares, thoughts of the Nein in trouble, or in disarray, or in death, kept them awake? By the bags growing under their eyes, the answer was most emphatically, _yes_.

Once their toes touched the wooden floor, and began to go about their morning routine, their mind wandered. Wandered to questions: if the Nein was back; if they weren’t back; if anyone would’ve bothered waking them up if they _had_ come back before then. Deciding that the Nein was still ashore, somewhere in the jungle, they headed up onto deck. Adjusting their little backpack on as they mounted the steps into the sun-filled morning, they decided. They were going to keep lookout. Someone had to.

The kid set themselves to their task. On the side of the ship, half their body hanging off the ship, they sat. It kept them mostly out of the way, and would make it easy to keep an eye on the treeline. The only thing between them and the jungle was the water. The accursed water.

There were still sailors from The Squalleater on the beach, either kicking about in the breaking waves or carrying fruits and fresh water from nearer parts of the jungle’s depths. Rowan scanned their faces, trying to place each and every one aboard the larger ship, trying to figure out what their jobs were. What they were to the Nein. And, by extension, what they were to Rowan. Whether they’d be any trouble, as the Nein had warned them about all the time.

Orly sidled by about an hour or two into the kid’s watch. He rumbled in his own way, smiling down at the kid. “That’s a …mighty uncomfortable position you got there, little one.” Rowan shrugged at him, not taking their eyes from the edge of the jungle. “You keepin’ a lookout, from down here?” A nod. “Well, then m-mayhaps you’ll be needing this.” He rifled around in his things for a second. Then, Rowan felt a cold item tap their shoulder. 

To the tortle’s surprise, the kid broke their stare to blink at him. In his clawed grasp was a spyglass, small and collapsed. “If yer to keep watch, this’ll help with the detail.” Rowan nodded, taking the spyglass in a couple careful hands. They’d seen how much gold this simple-looking item was worth in stores. The Nein had largely ignored it, since the impressive one thousand gold pieces was more than any of them had put together. “Might take a couple tries,” he admitted, “to get it in focus. But you’ll be good at it by the end of this.” With a shrug, he lumbered off. 

Rowan decided then that they liked Orly; they liked him a lot.

Every once in a while, when Orly would pass them as he wandered around on deck and saw to its readiness, he stopped to watch the kid. They scanned the treeline, searching through the thick trees and vines to see a familiar face. Nothing had changed in the hours that they watched with fixed determination. Nothing disturbed a single leaf on the trees, crushed a flower, or parted the bushes. No, it was all the same. And with almost mechanical repetition, Rowan’s gaze shifted from one side of the beach to the other, studying the trees.

They watched as the crew of The Mistake and The Squalleater left the shore, finishing whatever preparations and repairs they could. They watched as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the shadows shifting underfoot. They watched as the tide shrank and grew with the rotation of the moons. They watched. 

Until finally, it was worthwhile.

Orly was seeing to the rigging, telling Marius to fix his shoddy knot-work, when he saw them bolt straight upright. Which, because they were half out of the boat, meant that their body listed to the dangerous, watery side. But the hand that gripped the railing was firm, knuckles whitening as they pointed. 

Following their motion, he saw a rustling of trees, a great movement in the jungle. It had to be the Nein. That, or something on the island had sensed their presence. 

And when ten people came crashing through the underbrush, firing Eldritch Blasts and arrows in their wake, Orly knew. Something hadn’t sensed the sailors’ presence. They’d found the Nein. And those people had flanked the group, shooting their own arrows and attacks at the fleeing party.

“There a rowboat left ashore, little one?” Orly asked, stomping down the stairs to their side. At their nod, he grunted. “Good.” Turning to the crew, he added in a hoarse shout, “Prepare for a kerfuffle!”

Rowan handed the spyglass back to him, but he refused. “Keep it on ya, for now. I’ve got other fish to fry.” So they turned their watchful gaze to the Nein, Avantika, and Jamedi.

There was nothing else they could do. They’d promised the Nein not to use magic around Avantika’s crew, who were all staring off the bow, watching with bated breath to see whether the Yuan-ti would gain on the party. So far, it seemed like they were focused on attacking, rather than surrounding. And perhaps that was a good thing.

Rowan watched as Caleb shot off a few Fire Bolts, landing successful hits on the enemy’s snaky sides. The fire singed scales, leaving blackened spots where the impacts landed. For a moment, Rowan just blinked at the scarred remains of a couple Yuan-ti off in the distance. Then a thought fled through their mind, banging on the blank spaces of their mind. The Nein was with Avantika. They’d want to go to her ship. And if something happened, they could stay separated. 

And another thing: there was only one rowboat ashore. One rowboat for 10 people did not seem like a good idea. With a burst of frantic energy, Rowan sprinted to Orly, pointing to the single boat half in, half out of the water. “Aye,” he realized after a moment’s consideration, “Should’ve been more specific.” Turning to the crew, he shouted, “Lower a rowboat! There’s only the one ashore!” He looked down at Rowan, who seemed to vibrate with nervous energy. “Ya know how to row?”

The kid gestured sitting down, and then bringing the oars from their knees, to their toes, and up to their nose. “Aye, ya can. But you’re a might bit scrawny. MARIUS.” The tortle looked around, finding the man he was looking for. “You’re going to go with the kiddo.”

“Ashore? Where Yuan-ti are baring down on everyone?”

“Aye, and you’re not complaining.” Leaning in, Orly added to the kid, “If you’re in trouble, use that magic of yours to save yourself, promises be damned.” 

They froze for a moment before he gave them a good-spirited nod and was off preparing for a fight. Well, that cat was out of the bag. 

“I don’t understand why you’re coming along,” Marius grumbled. Rowan just punched him in the arm and puffed up their chest. They were an adventurer! They’d probably seen more combat than Marius. They had every right to be there, they believed. 

It took a moment for the crew to help Marius and Rowan wrestle the rowboat free and off the side of the ship, where it was lowered down into the water with the pair inside. Though Rowan reached for the oars, Marius took them, flexing in the sunlight. They rolled their eyes, and slapped The Mistake’s side. With all their little might, they pushed the rowboat from the side of ship. Marius called a quick “We’re off!” before twisting the boat to the edge of the water.

The thirty or so odd seconds of rowing to shore were nerve-wracking. None of the ten adults had taken the rowboat, all instead turning to face the Yuan-ti that had, by then, curved to keep the party in place. The whole Nein looked exhausted— tired and spent. Rowan noticed that Caleb, Caduceus, and Jester were using cantrips to fight back— there was no lollipop in sight. Or enormous bursts of energy they were used to seeing from the wizard. 

Marius shouted at the group when he got near to shore, sinking the oars into the shallow surf to stop the boat. “GET ON,” He cried, as the fighters looked around.

“DUCK!” Beau shouted, punching a Yuan-ti out cold with her bare hands. Arrows turned to focus on the second rowboat, sailing towards the pair. Rowan gulped and dodged out of the way, ducking under the forward thwart. Marius followed suit, pulling the oars in as he collapsed under the center thwart as best he could. That was definitely an advantage, Rowan’s mind provided, to being a kid— they were tiny compared to the adults. Maybe Nott thought the same. 

The splashing of legs in the water, punctuated with shouts and cries about who got which vessel rang through the air. Whizzing of arrows passed overhead for a moment or two, before legs and arms crowded into the boat. 

Had it been Fjord pulling himself aboard, Rowan probably would’ve freaked out. He was the only one in the party whose limbs were the same size and color as the Yuan-ti that had trailed them, after all. But no, instead it was Beau, half-dragging Caleb and Nott along with her. And, to their sinking despair, Jamedi. “To The Squalleater,” he commanded, pulling Marius from hiding.

“Good hiding, kiddo,” Beau said, righting herself as she took an oar from Marius. For a moment she and he rowed in tandem, before she snapped an arrow that was whizzing through the air at her. “Hah!” she cried, throwing it back. It didn’t land, merely flopping into the sea, but she was grinning in a satisfied, exhausted way. 

“Thank you for coming to get us, _Kleiner—_ ” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting to Jamedi. He took a very loud, deep breath, as though he were more out-of-breath than he truly was. “ _Ja,_ Thank you.”

Rowan peeked out from over the boat’s edge to see Fjord and Avantika conversing in low tones. Caduceus, Molly, Jester, and Yasha were in the other boat. Jester and Yasha had an oar each, pulling their boat in swift strokes towards The Squalleater. Avantika was saying something to Fjord, her hand up in the air as though waiting for a high-five. But instead of mirroring the action, Fjord’s gaze was just fixed on a bleeding spot in the center of her palm.

With a manic laugh, she murmured something under her breath and a wave came up to push the rowboats away from shore faster, pulling them out of the range of fire. “Well, better luck next time, huh?” She added to Fjord, smirking as the boats bumped into each other and The Squalleater. “All aboard!”

For a moment, everyone was watching the crew above ready the rope ladders. Until booms sounded from overhead— the canons were firing at the Yuan-ti. Beau, Nott, and Mollymauk let out whoops of laughter and tired excitement as the snake-like figures retreated to the jungle’s edge. Rowan watched for a few moments more until Nott pushed them to mount the ladder and climb aboard.

“How’d it go?” Vera asked, approaching Avantika as she climbed aboard the ship after Rowan and a couple others. 

“‘Twas a resounding success.” She smiled at the group, flexing the bleeding hand. “I would say that our new compatriots have proven their worth with flying colors. And I do believe you have earned what our contract assured you.” Her eyes fell on Jamedi, the last of Rowan’s boat to climb aboard. Turning to her second-in-command, Avantika added, “Please, Vera, if you could retrieve the payment.”

She nodded, and gestured to the scout to follow, and he did. Before he left, Jamedi grumbled at the captain, “I hope you understand, that with all due respect, this is our last time working together.”

With a smirk, Avantika laughed. “Aye, I understand. But it is your loss. There is always more work for you. Where would you like to be dropped off?”

Nott grumbled a quiet, “In a graveyard,” under her breath, which made Rowan stare down at her for a second.

Vera looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “Captain, at this moment, it appears we have maybe eleven days of supplies, given that our crew has now swelled.” Her eyes lingered on the Mighty Nein, coming to rest on Rowan’s face. “As such, we could probably make it back to Darktow to also complete the repairs on The Mist, as it is seaworthy, but I do not know how long. That would be my recommendation.”

“Very well.” Avantika nodded her assent to the plan. “We’ll make our way westward on to Darktow to get repairs done, supply up, and — should you wish to stay— make our way to the next leg of our journey. Who knows?” She looked at Fjord with a hungry, excited expression. “It seems that you are up for your own rewards to be reaped, eh?”

“Indeed. Such a mighty display on the way back. I feel like I would be left wanting if I didn’t try and pursue the same sort of glory.” He gave her a look that, to Rowan, looked both uncomfortable and uncharacteristic. They wondered if he was well.

“Of course. Well, these gifts are paltry. Once Uk’otoa is truly free, then the true blessing can be given.”

“Captain, may I ask, you knew of this location already.” Fjord gestured to the island, and the Yuan-ti that had since disappeared into the treeline. “Do you have a lead on another?” 

“I have a lead on someone that — with the right amount of coin— should give us the information we seek. If not, we’ll be sitting here with our thumbs up our asses. As I’ve paid well enough, and this person has come through before. So fingers crossed, eh? Regardless, I think we could all use a bit of rest.” She looked at Caduceus, who barely looked to be standing.

The cleric nodded. “I would be amenable at this point.” 

“Understood. Get Jeremiah to get food cooking immediately. I think a fine meal and a night’s rest is in order.” With a smile full of daggers, she added, “Friends. I’m impressed. And I’m thankful that you’ve not only upheld your side of the bargain, you’ve proved yourselves useful as quite formidable mercenaries.” In a lower voice, she added, “I mean no disrespect to some of my crew, but when we get back to Darktow—” A that point, she lapsed into silence, staring daggers at some of the figures on deck. “Maybe we’ll deal with some trade off, eh? Send some of them to The Mist and maybe you’ll stay with me for a while.”

Fjord nodded. “We would certainly entertain that very notion. It’s hard to think past any sort of rest.” He gave her a smile that would be described as kind, weary, and distant— all at the same time. 

“Sorry, I thought that was hypothetical and that we were—” Beau stopped, blinking at something in the middle distance. “Talk about that later… which we should do.”

“Very well. Then get some sleep and on the morrow we will discuss how much money we can make together.” Avantika grinned, taking a couple steps away from them. “We’ll probably make a stop or two along the way, if you’re interested. Bring up the map and see what you want to do. When we’ve had a bit of rest, maybe a glass of wine…” she trailed off, looking pointedly at Fjord.

“Of course.” The tips of his ears took on a reddish hue.

“All right. Go, rest, sleep. I shall do the same.”

“Could we have a conversation near the bow of the ship, perhaps? Away from ears?” He looked to the Nein as Avantika and Jamedi left with Vera. The group agreed, moving towards the bow. 

Beau looked at the stairs leading down into the ship. “I’ll be right back.” After a quick moment, she returned with an armful of bread, hard cheese, tropical fruits, and a bottle of wine. “I got appetizers. There you go.”

“I should start by thanking all of you for putting yourselves in harm’s way again.” Fjord said, sitting on a spool of rope. “I did not expect that to go the way that it did, but that seems a repetitive notion at this point.”

Beau took a huge bite of bread at that and asked, “What the f— frick happened down there? We haven’t really gotten a clear description, and we’re all confused.” Rowan sat down beside her, remembering that they, too, were hungry. They’d skipped breakfast, and lunch, and by the way the sun was setting, probably dinner. Nott tore off a few hunks of cheese and gave them the ends of the loaf of bread.

Fjord recounted the bits of the mission the Nein had missed, when Avantika had given up her Cloven Crystal to open one of the gates holding Uk’otoa back. “In my dullardly moment of trying to figure out how the fuc-frick? How the frick I would get it in there, she reached out. And she put the thing in her hand onto the divot before I could put the sword in. It ripped the eye straight out of her hand. Blood was coming out of it; I thought it had done something to her. That’s when I saw these arcane-like symbols light up. They shot across the floor and straight up toward you guys right above the water.”

“Yeah, we saw them.” Beau nodded. “Visible up where we were.”

“You saw them come out? What happened?”

Mollymauk took a swig of wine and twirled a hand in the air. “The runes started glowing, then it connected to the pillars. And then everything began flooding. And _then_ it was running for our lives.” He took another swig before handing it to Yasha. “I didn’t see much, I was more preoccupied with getting the hell out of there. Glad we didn’t take you, darling. Barely got Caleb out.” He gave a nod to Rowan, who nibbled at their bread and tried not to look as tired as the Nein did.

“It was in a hurry, but the runes in that chamber were of protection, some sort of ward that I don’t understand. It’s old, shook the entire room we were in. I thought maybe there were three locks down there, but you only saw one. Presumably, there are two more places in the ocean— or in the world— to unlock.” Caleb passed the wine on to Nott without drinking, who shrugged and took her own swig.

“That seems like a lot,” Fjord murmured.

“There’s more than one. There was more than one creature.” Caduceus added, looking at the island.

“You saw what she did when we were in the boat. How she closed her hand and you felt that surge in the water?” Fjord put his own hand out, staring at his unblemished palm.

“Yeah, it was… upsetting.” Mollymauk poked Fjord’s hand with a broken nail.

Fjord sighed, his hand falling bac to his lap. “I think it’s because she got there first and offered her orb. She was rewarded with some sort of oceanic power, or control over water.”

Nott coughed. “I was cowering in the bottom of the rowboat with the kid, so I didn’t see any of that.”

“Back… in school my teachers told us about powerful creatures that existed throughout history. Against my will, I was forced to read some old religious books that talked about entities that were left in the wake of the Divergence.” Beau took a swig of wine to cover up her slight flush. “Creations meant to be an extension of the gods and whatever. They’d all become obsessed with their own power and viewed themselves as gods. Seems like Uk’otoa might be one of those things.” She shrugged. “Once all the gods were banished behind the Divine Gate, they became the big boys in charge. But they’ve been sealed up, so they don’t go ravaging the world and whatnot.”

“That’s some heavy stuff,” added Fjord, blanching.

“I remember it all ‘cause in the filigree, there was a monk with a trumpet shoved up his butt.” Beau grinned. “In fact, I still remember the book. Bet if we go back to the library, we could find it.”

“Oh my god, I want to see the butt-trumpet player.” Jester giggled. “It’d be like, really something.”

Fjord smirked. “That would be a choice.”

“Speaking of choices, what’s yours?” Molly asked, looking to Fjord. Yasha nodded along, grabbing the wine and draining the last of it.

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ , she said for all of us to hear that the real reward comes from releasing this… serpent. Is that your intention? Is that your desire?”

Fjord shook his head. Beau clapped him on the shoulder and sighed. “I feel like she has bigger plans.”

“I’m not a crazy person, all right?” Fjord added, looking the party over. “A giant serpent from the Divergence? This is bigger than anything I’ve ever heard of. Caduceus, I know your experiences with water have been less than thrilling...” He trailed off, as though he wanted to ask something but couldn’t. 

“I think the question really is what we’re going to have to do about this,” Caduceus said, rubbing the fur on his face. “I mean, this is what’s being put in front of us. I don’t know if running headlong into the next temple is the best option. Maybe if you don’t find the answers you were looking for down in the water, it’s time to look somewhere else.”

Nott piped up, reflective. “If I might, Fjord. If there’s three of these these Betrayer Gods, and each one needs three eyes unlock three temples, and _then_ they can be released... If we know one has been activated, and one is inside of you… Maybe we should try to find the last one.” She looked up at him, their yellow eyes meeting with serious intent. “With that one, we would know that no one could unlock Uk’otoa forever.”

“I’m all for trying to get knowledge out of the captain. She seemed to act like she knew who the third person was, or had been.” Fjord said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Beau grunted. “She also seems very interested in you. And don’t get me wrong, she’s hot and all, but I question her motives.” She sent a keen look over to Jester, who seemed to fume a bit at this.

Molly shook his head. “Feels like she’s going to use you and lose you, the moment she can.”

Beau grunted in a way that showed her agreement. A rare sight between the tiefling and she. Caleb looked at the monk and sighed. “She looks at him like a skeleton key; she needs him for what she wants.” Beau then added a quiet comment behind her hand that Rowan couldn’t pick up— something about sex and weaponry.

Fjord sighed, then said “I’d like to find out what she knows about the third, and ask for a bit of respite before we continue. I actually do not feel very comfortable…”

“What if we tie her up,” Jester suggested, grasping into her bag and retrieving a length of rope, “and I can Zone of Truth her and everything. We find out, like, everything she knows. And then we kill her and sink the Squall Eater.”

At Fjord’s pale expression, Caduceus suggested, “Perhaps some sort of agreement to share information, with the understanding that you’re both working towards the same goals, and maybe it would be better to have two groups doing this instead of one.”

“If we leave soon, we’re not going to just walk away.” Caleb gestured to the ship they were all atop. Rowan gazed at the masts, where the crows nests were swaying in the sky. Then they looked at the island, sitting as still as the boat was, not moving an inch but rocking back and forth with the current. Or… the ship was moving and the island was standing still. The relativity hurt their head a bit and they faded back into the conversation. “You are the key that she needs. She won’t let you go if you’re the key to releasing the serpent. The giant, god-like serpent. If we get the slightest whiff that you are after what this woman is after… Well I can’t speak for everyone but I’m not interested in being here anymore.”

Yasha put hand on Fjord’s shoulder. “Faith is a funny thing.” She said in her quiet voice. “Be careful where you place it. It can give you strength, or it can lead to terrible things.”

The kid started zoning out, the weariness of a night’s uncomfortable and unfulfilling rest starting to creep at the edges of their vision. They leaned against Beau, resting their head in on her toned arms. They watched the conversation go back and forth, back and forth, spinning round and round their head as the Nein started to discuss subjects and plans. Subjects Rowan could not understand— something about a dark tower or bark tow or what have you. Plans the Nein would never actually keep— about forging alliances but keeping distant. 

And eventually, they felt someone put a cloth over their shoulders. The next thing they remember, they were in their bunk with their blankets up to their shoulders. The room was dark, and the sky outside the porthole was dark and blurry with seawater and dried salt. Faintly, they saw the overlarge form of Caduceus’s furred, gray leg flopped over the side of his bunk. 

The door creaked open, and Fjord— and his entrance could only be described with one word— _skuttled_ into the room with his shirt and jacket hanging limp in his hands. Rowan watched from the top bunk as one of Caduceus’s ears twitched. The firbolg did not sit up, did not move much, but said in his steady but judgemental way, “Sleep well with your bad decisions.”

Fjord did not move from the doorway as Caduceus loudly flopped over, shifted his blanket, and presumably fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter because Rowan's involvement is quite tangential. Will do my best to post the next chapter very, very soon. Because that one... will be MUCH more important.
> 
> Which, by the by, may mark a turning point in the things I write about. It's been quite... wearisome to write every single day of the Nein's travels, especially in chapters like this. Molly's and Rowan's involvement in the story, in order to keep the beats as they are, need to be in line with the party's canonical choices; it makes their addition quite an unnecessary thing to write when the chapters do not need to be added to or changed to make them fit. 
> 
> So going forth, from Darktow onwards, I will keep the story limited to the events and additions that I think add something to the story of the Nein. 
> 
> I'll also have to figure out a way to have both Molly AND Lucien in the story, simultaneously. YIKES.


	13. Darktow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days at sea just before Darktow blur, but a certain blur of chaotic joy brings a burst of quiet happiness.

“We should be arriving,” Orly drawled, looking through the spyglass at the horizon, “At Dragshallow Reef by tomorrow noon.”

“Thank you,” Fjord said, taking the glass when the tortle handed it to him. “It should be an easy find.” He stared at the sky, fogged out and misty, Orly’s chuckle rising from beside him. “Very easy, of course.”

The morning brings with it the steadily increasing anxiety of an awaiting landmass. The ships’ crews are furious with their work, preparing for at least a couple nights of rest on dry land. Barrels are hauled down into the lower holds, the supplies are tallied and assessed, the colors hoisted to show their pirate affiliation. The works, so far as Rowan would assume.

Doing their best to stay out of the way, they skirt around the sterncastle, watching the trailing water behind the ship. There’s not much out there that they can track— just rolling waves and endless horizon. Even forwards is the same, baffling in its monotony.

In their mind, they are privately very happy to be off the ship. Even if it is onto a pirate island ran by a guy named the Plank King, there’s a chance. A chance that they will get to use their magic just a bit. The Nein’s kept them under surveillance the whole journey to Darktow, watching their every move. Signing’s about all the conversation they’ve had with most of the Nein, seeing as how it’s difficult to talk anywhere other than their quarters. And even then, it’s nighttime and quite dark.

It’d be a relief to have a real conversation, one without pantomime and assumptions. At least Caleb, Nott, and Beau were doing quite well in learning what all the little hand movements meant. Caduceus and Yasha… had a harder time. 

They were sitting with a shoulder against the railing, watching the waves with Caduceus. “Can you show me how to say ‘ocean’ again,” he asked, looking down at his own huge hands. “I don’t think I’ve quite got the hang of it.”

Reaching up, they formed his hand— three fingers up, the thumb holding the pinky down. They tapped their hand against their chin, motioning with their free hand for him to do the same. Then, with both hands, they made an undulating motion away from their torso.

“So it’s ‘water’ and then the image of it. Huh. Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

He did not. It took him four more tries to get it right— the number of fingers kept tripping him up. 

“It’s ‘W’ for ‘water,’ Mr. Clay,” Caleb said, climbing up the railing with Frumpkin over his shoulders. “The right hand makes a ‘W’ shape.”

“Ah. I see.” Caduceus’s eyes misted over. It did not help. Caleb sat down so that he faced the ocean, watching as both the kid and the firbolg practiced signs. “I think it is a good idea, _kleiner Rabe_ , to keep teaching us this. It could prove useful.”

“Totally!” Jester bounded up the stairs, throwing herself into the group. “Like, we could totally use the signs when we need to be secret, and we’re stealthing, and like— stealing diamonds from some grumpy, rich people.” She giggled, easily forming the letters she wanted. “Like, you totally don’t know what I just said.”

“We wouldn’t, but we have a little teacher,” Caleb said, giving the kid a wan smile. “But so far as Fjord’s descriptions run, I doubt we’ll be able to do much else on this island of pirates.” 

They deflated a bit. Darktow was a place made up entirely of pirates— or pirate affiliates— but weren’t there alleys? Corners to hide in, little alcoves to disguise their motions? 

In protest they started signing as much, but Caleb sighed. “And it is much more dangerous to do so than, say, in Nicodranas. On the Coast, you’d be a spectacle. Here you’d be a quick way to make a great deal of money.”

“Don’t, like, pirates kidnap kids and stuff?” Jester said, rustling around in her rucksack for something. “‘Cause in the stories my mama used to read to me, pirates were always finding children who were lonely and kidnapping them. And selling them off to evil sorcerers, or creepy circuses, or—” She stopped at the hand Caduceus held up.

He looked down at Rowan. “I’m sure you’ll stay with one of us,” he said. There was no room for argument in his tone, despite it not changing a single bit. WIth a sigh, their shoulders slumped and they stuck out their bottom lip. He did not put his hand down until they nodded and held up their pinky. “I promise, too,” he agreed, looping their tiny finger through his.

“Would a disguise help?” Caduceus asked Jester, looking at the tielfing with her arms still in her bag. “The mask Nott wears in the Empire, for instance.”

“Yeah, that’d be a super good idea, except we don’t have anything on us.”

“Your paint,” Caduceus mumbled. “Could be useful.”

“Oh. My. Gods. How did I not think of that?” Jester’s arms jetted from out of the bag and grabbed Rowan’s hands. “We’re going downstairs and I’m going to make you an outfit that makes you look like a halfling, or something!”

Rowan perked up. Caleb mumbled a compliment to Caduceus, who waved it off as he stood up. “Should be helping count the stock, anyways, seeing as how I’m, well, I’m sort of the cook for the Mistake.”

“Can you make us some cakes?”

The firbolg looked down at Jester, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I don’t think so, no. You’d need an oven for that.” His eyebrows knitted together when she stopped fidgeting. “Ah, but we’ll be on land tonight. Might have a bakery in town.”

“For bread, most likely,” Caleb said, scratching at his growing beard, “But not one for pastries.”

With a pout, Jester shot back, “Well, you never know!” Huffing a bit, she took Rowan’s hand and pulled them up and down the stairs of the aftcastle. Down into the rooms they went, with Jester narrating the whole time about the design of the mask she’d make for the kid. “I mean, you could totally have a mask just like Nott’s… but ‘cause it’s for a doll it’s a bit creepy, you know? Oh, you know!” She pulled her door open and flopped her bag on her hammock. “You should draw me a picture so I can paint the exact mask you want!”

She handed Rowan her sketchbook and a stick of charcoal. It felt scratchy between their fingers, but it was a step in the right direction. They’d be safer, the Nein, because people were looking for Rowan. And if they didn’t see Rowan, the searchers would leave. And that meant they could maybe spend a little longer in town. Darktow sounded dangerous but very, very exciting.

And with that, they started sketching a design for a mask that looked more realistic than Nott’s.

Their intent was nice, but ten-year-olds are rarely gifted artists. Jester did not imply their ineptitude, but instead did her best to translate the mask into her own hand. She took up a large paint brush at first, dipping it into a bit of yellow, a bit of red, and a bit of blue and green to make a proper, skin-tone brown. 

The forehead was like Rowan’s but larger, hung with eyebrows that looked kempt and clean. The kid rubbed at their own caterpillars and wondered if they’d ever figure out how people got them to look so sleek. The little hairs always stuck up at weird angles. Some curled, even.

On the mask, the cheeks were a bit high up. Jester painted them with a lovely flush, natural and happy. But she skipped the freckles. Rowan scribbled a quick, “What if someone knows?” and pointed to their own spots. She shrugged— in Jester’s opinion, freckles are darned cute. But she gave the kid what they wanted— it was their mask, anyways. 

The last thing she painted were the lips. “I’ve gotta get this right,” she grumbled, her pink tongue sticking out from between her own. It traced the cupid’s bow as she painted the mask’s, as though informing her of the contour. The lips were, in fact, Jester’s own— shapely and defined. “Oh my gods, look!” She pulled the mask up off the paper she had painted on, holding it up to her face. “If I disguised myself to look like a human, this would totally be the face I’d have!” 

Digging around in her bag, she pulled a ribbon from it. The color was like seafoam, a light green with just the barest hint of blue. She held it up near Rowan’s face, her mouth scrunching up. “Fuck, I wanted this to be the color of your eyes.”

 _It’s pretty,_ Rowan wrote down, giving her a kind smile. They didn’t care— it was a nice color. 

“You’re so nice!” She swept them into a hug as she took a dagger to the ribbon and split it in two. “There! Now I’m just going to sew it on…” She’d left little slits in each side, looped the ribbon through, and stitched the loop down. “There!” Sitting back, she handed the mask to the kid. 

Apprehension fell over her expression. “Put it on— let’s see if it fits!” Rowan did as she requested, slipping it over their face. 

It did, in fact, fit. It felt much like what wearing Nott’s mask did, just a bit more suited to their tastes. The inside of it was the same dusty off-white as Jester’s paper, with that faint, toothy texture. When they smiled, the only change anyone would see is the way their eyes scrunched up into little half-moons. 

“That’s like, super cute you know. You’re so adorable!” Jester lept forward, hugging them again. “You should go show Nott. She’ll be so excited to find out you’re mask buddies!”

Rowan nodded, fumbling with the ribbon a bit. It was slick, and hard to tie a bow behind their head. Jester reached around and slipped the knot under their hair. “Hmm. Maybe… Oh!” She pulled a scarf— not the winter kind, but the satin kind that felt smooth and cool against the skin— and handed it to Rowan. “It won’t match the ribbon, but it’s close to your other clothes.” 

She draped it loosely over Rowan’s shoulders and head, covering up most of their hair with it. The ends, though, draped over their shoulders and down their back. 

They sat, quieter than usual, as she finished. “There.” The blue tiefling sat back, her smile radiating warmth. Rowan still watched her, motionless for a second. With the pencil still in their hand, they wrote one last message.

 _My mama used to wear a scarf like this._

“Oh! That’s very fashionable.” Rowan tucked all of their hair under the scarf and pointed. “Oh, that’s what you mean! Yeah, some people in Nicodranas would wear it like that, too.”

 _Do you want to know what my mama called me?_ Jester nodded as she watched the words form. Her eyes got bigger as she saw the final word take shape. Slack-jawed, a smile crept across her face. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, bending her head so it tapped Rowan’s forehead. “My momma used to do this with me when I was little.” She rotated her head so that her horns knocked into Rowan’s head with a gentle bump. Rowan just hugged back. 

It felt nice, to let someone else know. They were slowly forgetting who they’d told and who they hadn’t. 

* * *

As the Mighty Nein sailed into the graveyard of broken ships that heralded the Dragshallow Reef, Rowan clung to Fjord’s side. He was the only one who did not seem at all surprised by the waterlogged wood and barrels that were somehow distinguishable from the coral and fish that scattered themselves at the Squall Eater’s shadow. 

The reefs surrounding the ship guided them in a maze, directing the crew in its hazardous way. Creeping up from the misty horizon stood watch towers, great stone things rising out of the water. Huge bolt throwers stood atop battlements, the metal tips of glinting in the reflective light of the sea. Catapults sat ready, hewn boulders bedecked with mussels and barnacles. The shine of spyglasses followed the ships as Avantika roared at the crew to hoist the colors.

“The Revelry,” Fjord mused aloud, looking at the Nein, “Doesn’t do too well with visitors.” He recounted all he knew: about the usurpation of the old leader, known as the Plank King; the origin in trading disputes that led to a less than legitimate trade regime; the tenuous nature of the Clovis Concord’s attempts to regain the island. “They’ve been doing none too well, on that front. If the reef was anything to go by.” He gestured up at a watch tower, where a trebuchet sat watching the Squall Eater sail passed.

Once they got past the treacherous straights, the isle began to open up before them. A huge dock— more of a series of interconnected, swaying wooden bridges that laced together in a haphazard way— held an enormous number of ships, all docked and moving with the tide. Beyond were buildings in all manner of styles— some were quite ramshackle. Others were neat and tidy, splendid little things that looked unnervingly pretty compared to their rundown neighbors. On the whole, the place looked as though it was run on whatever was there before, and not much more. 

Molly stooped to help Rowan tie the mask over their face and arrange their scarf so as to hide their appearance. And when Fjord stepped aside to discuss something last-minute with Captain Avantika, they stuck to his side instead. Maybe the pirates would be busier puzzling over his gaudy coat and not their tiny frame. 

The hive of Darktow glimmered with candle- and torch-light as residents lit up their windows to scare off the dark of the night. Rowan gripped Fjord’s jacket with one hand, the other holding onto their new mask. 

Apprehension had begun to usurp excitement in their stomach. 

Jamedi walked down with the Nein, whispering about coins to Avantika. She hand him a small number of platinum and he left with just quick nod. “Be careful around this one,” he said as he walked passed the Nein, his gaze lingering on Avantika’s captain’s hat. “Be safe.”

“I liked him,” Jester decided, looking to Molly, who nodded in affirmation. Caduceus mumbled about ‘complicated feelings’ to Beau. She tilted her head up at him and smirked.

“Dead man walking,” Nott said before she knelt and kissed the ground. 

Avantika turned to those left aboard and those already on land, calling, “Crew! It has been a good journey. Uk’atoa will be proud. You have been resolute. Tonight, we drink! Come, let us be off to the Bloated Cup. The rounds,” she said, casting her gaze across the ship’s railing, “are on me!”

Cheers rained down from the Squall Eater as she turned back to the Nein. “My new compatriots, word has reached the ears of the Plank King that there is new blood in Darktow.” She gestured at an approaching figure wearing an officious coat.

“These are the new blood, I assume,” he said, running a hand through his greasy hair. It stayed there, slicked down against his head. A sudden bout of queasiness, that had nothing to do with being on a piece of solid, dry land, ran through Rowan’s stomach. They very much did not want to touch his hands or his hair. “He would appreciate,” the man continued, looking back at the captain, “you bringing them to The Throne Roost. And have an audience with the Plank King.”

“Who are you?” Nott asked, her own mask over her green skin. “And do we need to bring any presents, or anything, when we meet him?”

“You may call me James Tybalt,” he said, nodding down at her with a bit of a quizzical look on his face. “And I’m certain he wouldn’t argue.” When he smiled, the blackened remains of a half-dozen teeth peered out from cracked lips. “I’d recommend you all follow me. You too,” he added, turning to Avantika, “He wants a check-in with you.”

She called back at Ipess to bring some treasure and the group was off. Around the side of a cliff they climbed, worn steps carved into the rock leading them up and around the town. Set back in the mist, as though hiding and watching from the shadows, the Nein, Avantika, and Tybalt made their slow and dangerous way up the cliff face. Torches dotted the lane, sometimes replaced by a skull. Or a decaying head.

Jester pulled on a scary, metal mask as Caduceus began tapping the remains. Gentle Repose, complete with mossy green and gray lichen, lept up the faces of these long dead folx. The mist turned into rain as they climbed the final dozen yards up. 

The stairs ended at a cave, lit with firelight, the mouth glowing with the dancing warmth of firelight. Guards stood between the Nein and the entrance to the Throne Roost, but did not stop them as Tybalt gave a small salute. 

Rowan looked back as they stepped far enough away from the cliff; the whole three hundred feet yawned up at them. They would not survive if they fell. None of the Nein would. It was not a thought that boded well as the group was ushered into the presence of the Plank King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, the next chapter will be so much fun to write. I'll do my best to type it up and post it soon; I've not got it fully laid out like I had this and the previous chapters (which is why they were up so quickly). But I've got a loose idea of what happens to the Nein. As this is all loosely canon-adjacent, it'll end in essentially the same fashion. Some details, however, are quite fun to adjust.
> 
> It's been a long time since I've written a battle, and everybody probably remembers what happened on Darktow! Now imagine it with another caster and a blood hunter!


	14. The Plank King & The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now on Darktow, the Mighty Nein and Rowan learn a few new things about their fellow pirates and piracy, in general. Choices are made, allegiances tested, and the Nein hatch a plan. A plan like any other plan.
> 
> A plan that is both wildly successful and terribly unsuccesful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it's all I've got at the moment...
> 
> Edit: I decided to end it on the same cliffhanger that happened in game, as the break in the story felt a bit better there than at night.

Rowan did not like the Plank King; the goliath was big, imposing, and menacing. There was something wrong about his whole appearance, a facade of gentlemanliness that masked something darker underneath. Maybe it was just his sheer size, expansive in a way they weren’t comfortable with. Caduceus was tall, but Wyatt Maranoss was huge. Maybe it was in the way he surveyed the cavernous room, a light in his eyes that reminded them of canonfire. Or maybe it was because his hair wasn’t his own.

The kid especially hated the way he looked at them. As his eyes rolled over each member of the Mighty Nein, landing on every face and memorizing it in turn, they found themselves edging behind Yasha. She was big and tall and imposing, too, and they unconsciously decided to use the aasimar as a shield. It did nothing to block the tide of cold that washed over them as the Plank King stared down at them. “And who might you be, small one?”

All they could muster, in response, was a weak flailing. The Plank King’s jovial grin soured. “Speak,” he demanded, leaning forwards on his throne, elbows resting on his knees, “Speak when you are spoken to, child.”

“They cannot speak,” Caleb blurted out, after another silent pause. Rowan heard a quill scratching as Linus, the scribe, scribbled down the information as the Plank King whistled. “They are called ‘Edel,’” he added, quieter. “Edel Engel.” Without tearing their eyes from the Plank King’s stare, they nodded, uncomprehending. Exactly why was Caleb making up a very fake sounding name for them?

“Little Edel Engel, then,” the Plank King nodded in Rowan’s direction. “What is your goal in all this?” 

Beau cleared her throat, drawing Maranoss’s stare. “They don’t really have a goal— they’re like, ten.” She sent a lazy gesture their way. “They’re our ward, for now.” A small piece of ice landed in Rowan’s throat. Did the monk really intend to send them away in due time? When would that be? They found Yasha’s hand and twined their fingers in hers, staring at the way their tanned skin looked in her pale one.

“And,” Molly added, taking a half-step forwards, “we intend to take them home. East of Gwardan.” His red eyes flitted to Rowan and they put two and two together. The details began to stack up in Linus’s journal, serving as the best protection they could be afforded; false names, false family, false home. 

A bit of hope rose in their chest as the goliath’s gaze shifted from the Nein to Avantika. “Does this information,” he asked, eyes narrowing, “line up with your own findings?”

“Yes, it does, your majesty.” She nodded, staring down Fjord. 

“While this is not a city crawling with children,” the Plank king added, turning his gaze to Fjord, too, “the child is welcome so long as you are welcome. I trust you will keep them in line.”

“Quiet as a church mouse, your majesty,” Fjord said. A moment later, his cheekbones darkened a hair as he chuckled. 

Avantika looked at the half-orc and sighed, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.” 

The Nein, Avantika, and the Plank King continued to debate things, comments flying over their head. Their eyes were transfixed on Linus, whose gaze flickered about the group, and didn’t tear their gaze from him until the Nein was dismissed and allowed to walk about the isle with relative safety.

For the rest of the evening, Yasha kept a hand free for them to hold. Fjord would pull them into his side, a hand on their arm. Between Molly and Jester, whose hands always seemed to rest on their shoulders, they felt a bit claustrophobic. 

“Any foes of yours,” Fjord asked Avantika, trying to act casual as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, “in this area? Anyone we should look out for?”

“I mean there are a number of unsavory types,” she replied, a hand moving through the air in the general direction of Rowan, whose hands were held by both Yasha and Caduceus at this point. “But I’ve made a bit of a reputation for being… well. People don’t like to tangle with me too much, eh?” She smiled, a wicked and sharp expression that sliced through Fjord’s attempt at resolve. “When you’ve been on the open seas for over a decade, people learn to leave you alone. Come,” she added, “Let us discuss this more over drinks.” 

As the captain moved to lead them to the Bloated Cup, her crew’s apparent resting place, Rowan watched the surroundings from between the torsos of the adults surrounding them. Barricades surrounded the island and its inhabitants, wooden and half-hidden behind the drizzling rains. The buildings all seemed in a state of permanent disrepair. Not from a lack of care, but from a lack of organization. Windows were nailed shut at slight angles. First stories were smaller than second stories, the foundation topsy-turvy. And in the rain, unguarded torches sputtered, unprotected from the marine layer creeping over the town. 

The kid caught a few of the Nein’s gazes as the others, too, searched around. And while Caleb and Beau didn’t say much in the walk to the Bloated Cup, their expressions belied the agitation they felt. While she stared daggers at the back of Avantika’s head as the captain led them through the town proper, Caleb’s eyes fixed on dark corners and broken alleyways. His scarred and dirty hands twitched, sometimes, over his spell components. The Nein were bracing for danger, danger they felt in every breath and with every raindrop that puddled on the uneven, dirty paths.

Because Darktow was, literally, filled with pirates.

Three blocks from the wide, busy tavern, Rowan could pick out music. Nothing fancy, nothing gentle or lyrical or understated. This was tavern music, thick with the sounds of off-key voices lubricated with the finest of cheap booze. Sailors curses and taunts rent the air, sudden and aggressive. A hand around their own tightened as Yasha heard the unmistakable snick of a blade torn from its scabbard. Silence, for a beat, before the sounds of uproarious, drunken laughter sailed over the Nein.

As Avantika pushed the door open, the sight of the room filled Rowan with a bit of dread. There was no way to hide from all of these people. The tavern was crammed with individuals: in a corner sat a fiddler playing a shanty; a group of men leaning over a table filled with cards and coins and bits of paper shouted as a hand was revealed; tables full of tankards, bread, and dried meats squeaked as the customers leaned in to tell wild tales of excitement and adventure. Eyes flicked to the group as they made their way to Avantika’s crew, huddled together in the center of the tavern. Rowan, too, felt the group huddle around them. 

And despite their attempts to block the kiddo from the pirate folk surrounding them, Rowan heard. They heard a lot. The adults all discussed piracy and history, allegiance and mutiny above their head. Despite the din, words snaked their way to the central table, vipers hissing about sales, how much gold they’d fetch to the right buyer, what they’d look like tied up or screaming or otherwise… compromised. 

Tearing their gaze from the pitchers of ale and hard cheese in the center of the table, Rowan saw the crew of the Mistake looking just as petrified as they felt.

Molly leaned over their shoulder, startling them out of their head. “Breathe. Eat something. Try not to listen.” His red eyes found theirs. “Fuck the lot of them. They won’t _touch_ you.” There was fire, there, behind his gaze, but not directed towards them. The flames warmed them, instead. With a nod and a wan smile, they took the offered plate and nibbled.

They turned their eyes to watch Fjord kneel beside Avantika, placing a cup before her. “Hey, listen… No hard feelings, right?” he added, flicking his gaze between Avantika and Rowan.

“There are no hard feelings.” She shook her head. “I understand the reasoning, and the captain’s word is law.” She sat up a bit straighter, turning to look him in the eye. “I am excited to see the great things you accomplish as quartermaster of our ship,” she added, tone shifting. 

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever’s best for the ship.”

“Precisely. And,” she said, softer, “whatever’s best for the captain.” She looked, then, over at Rowan. Avantika’s expression was hard to read— the way she stared at them from the corner of her eyes, cast over her shoulder, as though there was some kind of evil plotted behind them, made the kid look away. 

Instead, they turned to see Jester throw a punch at a gnomish man, whose curly mutton chops smushed under the weight of her blue fist. Fjord downed his drink as Beau cheered the tiefling on. Rowan was very hopeful, at that moment, that the Nein would leave Darktow as soon as possible. 

At least nobody was watching them.

They took the opportunity to slide off their chair and lean against Yasha’s side, pulling her cloak around them. A bemused smile spread across her lips. Mismatched eyes glanced down at them as she hugged them against her side. They find that it feels nice, to be squashed beside her. Especially when other people start fighting, too. And when the conversation, as it inevitably does as of late, turned to talk of Uk’otoa and terrors beneath the waves. Rowan was starting to understand why Nott was afraid of water.

They stuck with Caduceus as the party began to break off in pairs or trios, a little hand holding one of his sleeves. The firbolg stopped beside the inn and tavern’s front door. Rowan watched as his eyes scanned the area, checking it over in a calm but careful way. Nothing happened, nothing spoken between the two of them, until Fjord came out, nodding at his compatriots. 

With a hand on Caduceus’s shoulder, Fjord asked, “How are you doing?” The look of concern that washed over his expression was serious, touching almost. 

“I think I’m doing alright,” Caduceus said, looking up at the sky. Rowan nodded, too, before the firbolg added, “I’m just contemplating where we’re going from here. 

“You, ah, seemed a little more at ease,” the half-orc said, leaning in. When Caduceus nodded, he asked, “You do much drinking in there? I’m not really getting fumes on your breath.” 

A bit pink on his cheeks, Caduceus admitted, “I’ve only gotten drunk once in my life.” At two pairs of raised eyebrows, he continued, “It was because of Nott. I thought I’d try it,” he said, shrugging. “It didn’t agree with me.” 

“What happens when you drink?”

“Everything hurts,” Caduceus says, looking back at the misty sky. “And it’s violently offensive to the body on every level. That stuff’s just… disgusting. Just awful.” 

“But,” Fjord said, a bit more concerned than before, “You had stuff in your cup, right? You don’t have to fake it. You can just—” He gestured a bit, a gloved hand waving through the air as though that would explain his meaning. 

It did. “It feels polite, and not everyone is as understanding as your friends, you know?” Caduceus ruffled Rowan’s hair and looked back to Fjord. “I just sit in the corner and I just listen to everything that I can for as long as I can. It got a bit noisy in there and I just thought I’d get a little air.”

Fjord’s eyes tracked down to Rowan. He stepped around Caduceus so he stood, flanking the kid. “Anything popping up on that special radar of yours?” he asked, a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. 

“Oh yeah,” Caduceus said, nodding. His eyebrows knitted together, two pink knots of worry. “This place is dangerous. She’s dangerous,” he said, his gaze flicking to the inn, to the second floor. To where he knew Fjord knew Avantika was lying in wait. 

“Should we grab the others and go… explore for a little bit?” 

Caduceus stood, agreeing. “Fjord?” At the look from the half-orc, he said, “You know why everybody’s doing this. Why we’re all here, right?” He paused for a second. “I think you know it. I just want to point it out because that woman…” His gaze lingered on the second story for a moment. “She doesn’t care what any of us want. I’m sure she’d be interested, but it’s low on her priorities and I don’t trust anybody who puts others’ needs that low on the list.” After another beat, he added, “I just think you should keep mind of that while we’re getting in bed with them.” He cleared his throat. “So to speak.”

After casting a surreptitious glance about, Fjord murmured, “About that. Let’s just keep it right between us amigos,” he said, gesturing to the trio. “Because—”

“I’m not going to talk out of turn and I trust your intentions,” the firbolg added, his tone placating.

“Well, actually,” Fjord said, rubbing the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re real good at picking up on the little things, yeah? I think it’s… pretty clear I’m a bit… conflicted. I’m just letting you know,” he said, glancing about again, “I’m trying to keep her close. This whole thing’s got a little out of sorts and the best way to keep a finger on the pulse of things is to…” He let his voice trail away. 

“You’re a good man, Fjord.” Caduceus clapped him on the shoulder in a very Beau-like way. “So be careful. I imagine it’s a little out of character for you to be so honest and truthful with somebody in a way. It can… muddle a good man up whereas it doesn’t muddle a bad man up.” With a final grin, he said, “It’s one of the reasons why I like you.” With a small salute, he added, “I’m here for you. I’ve been learning how to swim.” 

“Yeah.” Fjord looked around, suspicion turning to concern. “Where are the rest of these chucklefucks?” He went a bit pink and looked at Rowan. “Don’t tell Nott I said that.” A grin spread across his face when Rowan gave him a knowing wink. 

Caduceus held his hands up, nine fingers held aloft. “Well there’s us three. Two are mysteriously vanished— I think they were mumbling something about trying to find an alley—” Six fingers reduced to four. “Yasha’s making sure Molly doesn’t do anything too silly inside, and last I saw Jester was waiting for Caleb to finish nursing his ale.” All his fingers were down by then. “That help?”

“Aye, it does. It’s good to know where the crew is, you know? Keep ‘em safe.” At that, he turned back inside. “Should we?”

“Yeah, let’s meet up with the rest of them.” He watched as Fjord reached down and picked Rowan up, setting them on his shoulders. “Oh, that looks like fun.”

“I always saw dads doing it for their kids,” He mumbles. “I suppose I just wanted to, ah, try it out?” Looking up at Rowan, whose hands were grabbing at hair just behind his ears, he smirked. “I’ll duck so you don’t bonk your head on the doorway.”

He didn’t need to, as the rest of the Nein filtered out of the Bloated Cup, demanding a night walk. “Oh yes, let’s,” Caduceus said, tapping his staff on the ground. “Before we go, the crew should also have some place to sleep; let’s make sure everyone’s taken care of. They’re having a bad time...” He sidled over to the crew of the Mistake, all still clutching tankards and looking perturbed to say the least. 

As Jester was leaving though, Vera pulled her in and looked her dead in the eye. Whispering, so as not to be overheard, she told the tiefling, “He would not be the first one she’s left in ruin, and he will not be the last. I will take care of him if he cannot.” 

The moment she returned, Caduceus gave her a concerned look. “If we’re going to talk about these things,” Nott said, looking at the group, “let’s use some code words.” 

“Like Tiffany,” Jester suggested, looking at Fjord. 

“And when we mention the…” He gestured as though holding a ball in front of him. “The apricot.”

“Mm. The apricot.” Beau nodded, smirking. 

“So,” Nott said as they all began to wander the city in the chill night air. “How do we deal with Tiffany?” And the conversation went from there. Secret words, speaking of treachery and safety. The orbs inside Fjord and inside Deshilla’s lair. Of spells from deities that would allow the Nein to steal what they needed and prove their insurrection was justified. Of breaking. And entering.

The plan was simple… break into Avantika’s rooms, look around for incriminating evidence, and use it to gain an upper hand against her. 

The plan involved nine people, though. Fjord would keep Avantika busy— a statement that made Jester’s eyebrows drop and Molly’s waggle— Caleb and Caduceus and Rowan would act as lookouts in the tavern. Somewhere between the Bloated Cup and the Squall Eater, Beau would act as a possible lookout or go-between. Molly and Yasha would take up their rooms in the Mistake, acting as though they were having conversations with Jester and Nott. And the best investigators like, ever, were tasked with the actual breaking and entering.

The plan, as all plans had, did _not_ go off without a hitch.

But Rowan and Caduceus, oblivious to what was going on in the ship, did not know some things had gone terribly wrong until a crewmember came stumbling in, stab wounds gushing blood. With nothing else to do, Rowan just sat and watched as Caduceus patched him up, telling him to take it easy— rest for a while. Have a drink, perhaps. They caught his expression and nodded, standing from the table and leaving in a rush.

The mist was thicker than before, layers of gray shifting about as their feet carried them to the docks. They saw Beau, flanked by a couple of guards. The look she was sporting told them it was a terrible idea to get involved with whatever was happening, so they darted on by. 

Caleb was the next person they saw, and he blushed a bit as they waited for him to button up his pants and stop pretending to piss drunkenly into the sea. “Caduceus sent you, _ja_? He asked, looking at the ship. “I think it best we grab Mr. Mollymauk and Ms. Yasha,” he added, securing a wire between his fingers and sending the pair a quick message. He leaned over them, putting a small amount of weight on their shoulders. “Act like you’re taking me to the inn,” he whispered. Four eyes stared at the guards speaking to Beauregard. “Just in case.”

With a quick nod, they began to pretend to carry Caleb’s weight back towards the Bloated Cup. They were just off the docks, perhaps a few steps away from the tavern’s entrance, when they heard screaming. From their shoulder, Caleb cursed, and the pair looked as a body launched itself off the crows’ nest. “That is… not good,” he murmured, sighing. “We’ll tell Caduceus.”

It took another twenty minutes for the entire Nein to meet up. The adventurers pushed themselves into Caleb and Nott’s room. 

Jester and Nott, successful in their attempt to sneak onto the ship, had stumbled their way across a trap hiding the tome now in Caleb’s hands. The writing was beyond the group— “It’s not a language,” Beau mentioned, leaning over the wizard’s shoulder. “Least not one I know.” 

“A cypher or a code, perhaps?” Mollymauk added, looking over Caleb’s other shoulder. 

He batted the two away, setting the leather-bound book on his lap. “I’ll get to that in a second. First,” he said, holding a hand towards Nott, “the jewels.” 

Caduceus handed him a necklace. “This is the only one that pinged my radar.”

“ _Ja, danke_ ,” said Caleb as his mind turned towards his spells. As he scratched away at identifying the thing, the others discussed what to do with the information in the book. 

“Do we send this anonymously to the Plank King?” Beau asked. “He asked me to keep an eye on Avantika— he wanted me to spy and snitch on her.”

“Could be he’s trying to find disloyal folks,” Fjord pointed out, “and string them up by their toes.” At the aghast face Molly pulled, he shrugged. “Could be he was serious— do you trust that’s what he wanted?”

“I don’t trust anyone here,” said Beau. “It’s not like anyone here’s completely un-sketchy, you know what you mean?” The group quieted at that, a tense silence falling over the party.

“What happened with that man, off the crows’ nest?” Caduceus asked, breaking the pause. 

“Oh. I used a spell to convince him that it was on fire,” Nott admitted, a noncommittal hand flapping in the air. “I didn’t want him to see us jumping from the back of the boat.”

With a quiet whistle, Yasha said, “So that’s why you’re soaking wet.”

“Yep!” Jester giggled. “We had to like, swim under the dock and climb up so nobody saw us.”

“And you picked the least conspicuous person to do that,” Molly said, preening. “Me.” He gave her a sideways hug, looking over at Caleb. “What say you, on the necklace?”

“It’s a good enchantment,” the wizard said, holding it up to the group. When Mollymauk took it from his hands, he continued, “It provides the wearer with some protection against poisons.”

“Could be useful for Nott,” Yasha said, looking down at her. “She does poke into traps often.”

“That was one time,” said Nott, “One time that I tripped a poison trap.”

“Twice,” Mollymauk reminded her, “If you include the time we all had to run through a hail of bolts. From the walls.”

She went a bit red. “Okay, yeah, sometimes I’m not that great at seeing traps,” she admitted, “But isn’t it better if we keep this hidden? At least until Avantika’s taken care of?” She gestured to the necklace in Mollymauk’s hands. “Those are some hot rocks.”

“Yeah, I see what you’re getting at.” Molly put it back in the bag, handing the entirety of the jewels to Caduceus. “So we keep those hidden until we feel safe.”

“Safer.”

He nodded at Yasha. “Yes— safer.”

“Speaking of safer,” Beau said, “I’d feel a lot safer knowing what this book said.” She was sat next to Caleb, looking at the book as he cast a long spell. “We figure out what’s in here, we figure out how to approach the Plank King.”

“If we do approach the Plank King,” Fjord pointed out. 

So the group waited, tense, as Caleb began the long and tedious process of decoding the book. They watched as he used scrap pieces of paper to note down symbol frequencies, approximating letters and testing it out a few times. It did take him a while— Rowan could see a vein popping on his forehead from the stress and pressure he must’ve been placing on himself— but eventually he sat up. The sudden movement dislodged mini-owl Frumpkin, whose annoyed twitters followed the familiar as it flew from Caleb’s shoulders to Yasha’s. She scritched its head as Caleb said, “I’ve got it.”

“What’s it say?” Jester asked as the whole group leaned in.

“It’s in fragments,” Caleb began to explain, running his hand over the pages as he spoke. Beau pulled a journal from her pack and started taking notes. The wizard whispered about Avantika’s dreams, of Uk’otoa and of deep, dark passageways. Glowing eyes in an endless sea. Of meeting Vandran, of seeking out the Cloven Crystals, of trying to use Vandran to open one. But he got away, and she began searching for others. “It mentions us,” Caleb said, “but not by name. Just ‘the new crew’. And,” he looked up at Fjord, “she wrote about finding another follower.”

“But no name?” asked Fjord, ringing his hands. At the shaking of Caleb’s head, he deflated. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

“No way people would figure out it’s us, right?” Beau asked, skeptical.

“They could, but I have an idea.” He turned to a beginning page and began to write out the Common translation. “We send this book— and this key— to the Plank King. We tell him about her plot, how she’s thinking to overthrow him. But we don’t translate it all. If we give him this,” he held up the loose paper, “and the book, they could eventually figure it out. But it’d take time. A lot of time.”

“Time we could use to get away,” said Mollymauk.

“Time we could use to get away,” Caleb repeated. 

“You, Mr. Caleb, are amazing.” Caduceus sent him a grin. “How long will it take for you to read this whole book?”

“If I stay up the whole night, I could get through all of it. And then it’ll all be up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “I won’t be able to regain spells, and I’ll be a bit tired, but it’s doable.”

“Do it.” Yasha gave him a nod. “I’ll keep watch.”

“And I’ll bring some snacks for you,” Jester said. The group began deciding on watches. With the chaos of the evening finished, a net began to loosely pull itself tighter. The resolve, the desire to accomplish something, began to tighten its hold around the Nein. After a few weeks of not knowing much, not planning much, not working towards a goal much, they had a direction.

A dangerous direction, but a direction nonetheless.

* * *

The morning dawned, the grey mist lingering, still, on the town of Darktow. A loud knocking woke up Rowan, whose head was leaned against the table Caleb had spent an all-nighter working at. Bleary, rubbing the sands from their eyes, they opened the door. 

Bouldergut, terrifying and huge as ever, stood in the doorway. “We’ve got to go,” her deep voice explained, “all hands on deck. Meeting. Now.” Rowan nodded, looking back at Caleb.

“ _Ja,_ we’ll just pack our things and meet you.”

“Alright,” she said. “Bye-bye, little one.” She patted Rowan on the head, hand heavy and rough as it rubbed their hair. 

From the doorway, Rowan could see Fjord, Mollymauk, and Yasha in one room, trying to figure out exactly what was going down. The others sent to wake the Nein took none of the bait the half-orc cast, all but pulling the trio from their room. Jester, Beau, and Nott were no better, the goblin receiving another of Bouldergut’s hard pats on the head. “We’ve gotta go,” Fjord mumbled to them as he passed the door by. “Something’s up.” 

Caleb patted Rowan’s shoulder and they followed, the Nein escorted to the Squalleater. The air was tense. It was obvious that their evening’s activities hadn’t gone unnoticed. In fact, it was very, very obvious something hinky was afoot. What with the perfect circle carved in the floor of Avantika’s cabin, the busted drawer in her desk, and the bewildered watchman who’d plummeted to his near-death.

As Caleb mounted the plank before them, they could see the book in his back pocket. With a gulp, they started to climb up after him. 

On the night-dampened deck, Avantika, Vera, and Bouldergut stood waiting for them. “Good morning, everyone.” She brightened like a freshly polished dagger. “Good morning,” she sent to Fjord, who blushed a bit. “Well. I apologize for the problems— this should only take a moment to discuss. It appears,” Avantika clapped her hands, staring them all down. She kept her tone light, but the air between her crew and the Nein spoke of imminent danger,” we’ve a bit of an incident that happened overnight, and I wanted to let everybody know there may have been a some issues . It has come to my attention,” her eyes roved about the Nein, “that there’s been a break-in to my chambers.”

Beau gasped, looking as awestruck as she could. 

The captain turned to Waldock and Zoen, who began stumbling over themselves to explain what had happened. “And we looked at the floor, and it was broken. Someone must’ve snuck in somehow,” Waldock said. 

The comedy of the last night started to sour in Rowan’s stomach. It was funny in the context of success, but a terrible series of obvious blunders in the light of the misty morning. When Avantika sidled over to Caduceus, Rowan shifted closer to the firbolg, but relaxed when she garnered the cleric with praise.

“Is this a common occurrence on Darktow,” Fjord asked, trying to look as guiltless as he could. He’d the strongest alibi, at least, having spent a good deal of time in the same room as Avantika. Doing… things. Rowan did not want to know why he seemed a bit green and a bit tired when he’d returned to the Nein. 

As they began to drift off to sleep again, they hoped. They _really_ hoped the whole ‘leave the kid behind on the ship’ thing had come to an end.

“Whoever did this,” Avantika sighed, “Does not understand the rules of the city very well.” She nodded to Vera, who traced her fingers in the air. 

“I can’t find objects,” Caduceus hummed, eyebrows furrowing.

“But do not worry. I can.” Vera said, pointing towards Caleb. Rowan’s heart leapt up to their throat. He hadn’t slept. He’d done so much magic the day before. The wizard blinked, and phosphorous was smeared across his palm as a wall of fire sprang up on the deck of the ship, separating Avantika’s crew from the Mighty Nein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading. I will have more updated soon (hopefully) if I can keep up my motivation.
> 
> Been running into some mental walls lately-- namely Mollymauk and Lucien things. I have a few ideas, but this is the point where things may start diverging more from the canon, which means the process I've been using will have to change. Which just means that from this point onwards, the style and/or focus may start to shift...
> 
> Edit: I've hit a good spot where there are a few ideas for how the canon is going to bend a bit more. Things will happen in largely the same order, but with differing details. Stay tuned! Hope you all enjoy what I've been cooking up these past few months.


	15. Trial of the Plank King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the best plans can be foiled. Even though Avantika foiled their plan, the Nein took the opportunity to return that particular karma, with interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a violent one! Nothing too visceral is described, but there is quite a good deal of fighting, bloodshed, and creepy bullshit that happens in this chapter. Please be warned! It doesn't get any worse than canon, but if you want to skip, you can.

Fire. Fire in an arching bow sprung from the components in Caleb’s hands. The tension in Rowan’s stomach burst as chaos descended. They blinked at the adults around them, scrambling to keep up with all of the things happening around them. Yes, there’d been battles before. But nothing quite like this, nothing quite so immediate. Out of the corner of their eyes, they noticed things. Beau grabec the journal from Caleb’s back pocket; she shouted about the plan to Jester, whose fingers wove through the air. The two vanished in a puff of nothingness.

They were down to seven.

From beyond the flames, Avantika’s furious voice rose above the flickering heat. Relieved of evidence, Caleb whipped around, a hand out. A vein thundered in his temple; the water Avantika had summoned splashed into the waves. With a grunt she turned her gaze on him. 

Yasha and Caduceus turn and run down the gangplanks, away from the fight and away from the fire. Ducking next to Caleb, Fjord shouted “Get the kid!” and stepped into the mist with Caleb, Nott streaking after the barbarian and firbolg. 

Mollymauk, unsheathing a scimitar, grabbed Rowan by the collar. He shook them. “No time to wait!” he shouted. His voice was quiet compared to the roaring flames. It knocks them to their senses, though, and they run after the others. 

Still aboard the Squall Eater, Vera stepped forward. She raised her hands to the sky, intoning something dark and angry. Hail, sudden and localized, shot from the heavens. It pummeled the retreating Nein, catching them all in freezing, icy rain. The ground turned to ice, slick and crunching. The faster folk— Nott and Yasha and Molly and Caduceus, surprisingly— stayed upright, able to duck and cover. 

Caleb and Rowan, though, were not fast enough. They slipped against the wizard’s side, out of Molly’s hold, feeling hundreds of icy cuts lace over their arms. Blood soaked their hands. The winds froze their fingers up, stiffening the joints. Panic shot through them— how would they cast? The same look of terror caught Caleb’s face. Yet he was able to manage a quick muttered incantation. With a burst he darted off, far, far from the fray.

As guards held up shields to stop his retreat, though, the twang of a crossbow rent the air. The bolt screamed through the mist, hitting its target. The wizard dropped to the ground. 

“Caleb!” Mollymauk screamed, letting Rowan go as he unsheathed his second scimitar. He cut through a few more bolts that rained from the deck of the Squalleater, most missing the Nein. 

One sunk into Yasha’s shoulder, who screamed in rage. She ripped it out and threw it onto the deck. Molly, too, caught one. The wood sunk into the meat of his thigh; blood soaked his hideous leggings. Rowan managed to duck under one, but another hit their arm. The force of it, more than the pain, sent them to their knees. 

Shouts from the onlookers rise up, many darting into their own ships to dodge the volley of crossbow bolts. Doors slam shut, windows clatter, roaring screams rise up in the distance. 

Avantika leapt down and onto docks, right in front of Nott, staying upright despite slippery terrain. “We need friends, Vera!” A rapier in one hand and a dagger in the other, she swiped— only the dagger, cloaked in faint, black energy, landed on the goblin. She hissed, but turned so the blade glanced off her shoulder. 

Far off in distance, Rowan heard Jester yelling. They couldn’t make it out over the din. But they saw her blue form retreating further from the docks. Away. 

Yasha steped forward, two massive swings of her greatsword aimed at Avantika. In her blind fury she missed the first strike. The second connected. “Take off her head, Yasha!” Nott screeeched as the captain staggered back. Part of her arm is shorn off— a whole slice of it just gone. Dodging a retaliatory swipe, Yasha barreled towards Rowan and picked them up by the back of their cloak. She pushed them to Caduceus, a grunt about keeping them up.

The firbolg looked at them, bleeding but up, and mumbled, “Let’s get weird.” In an instant, he vanished. The hand on their shoulder, though, stayed. With remarkable strength, he pushed them forward and out of the icy remnants of Vera’s spell.

“We’re getting weird, right?” Fjord shouted over at where Caduceus was supposed to be, where he saw an invisible hand gripping the back of Rowan’s cloak and helping them forwards. He saw the kiddo give him a faint nod; Caduceus shouted something to the affirmative. With a smirk his eyes rolled back in his head, a hand reaching out. He intoned, “ _Barlgura_.” Echoing voices, so unlike his own, weaved into his words.

A crack formed in the sky above the stern, right above where Vera was still standing. Stepping out, a hairy, horned demon descended upon the deck of the ship. With his hand still extended, wheezing a bit, Fjord gave one last instruction. Still supported by whispered, screaming echoes, he demanded, “Fuck up that crew.”

The Barlgura turned to do just that, and roared at Vera; the wind of its fury sent her hair flying around her. Spittle flecked her stunned face.

“Avantika is not to be trusted,” Fjord told the guards before disappearing in a puff of steam, reappearing thirty feet away. Turning from the guards’ terrified faces, he sprinted towards the prone form of Caleb, lying in the street. 

Nott ran, sprinting out of the path of the ice and rubble as Bouldergut, thick and furious, jumped from the deck of the ship. With a piece of fleece from her pocket, Nott locked her eyes on Avantika and murmured something below her breath. It seems to latch onto the pirate captain, but it doesn’t seem to affect her. The goblin cusses before turning and sending a wayward bolt in the captain’s direction. It whizzes by her, useless. 

Caught, now, by the wrath of a monstrous demon, Vera turned to flee from the Barlgura. She slipped from its fists, her mage armor deflecting the damage. She looked around at the guards— who stood confused and unsure— and waved her hand in the air. “Everyone! They have crossed Darktow. Take them to the Plank King!” As her words began to fly through the air, symbols formed around her. A wave of magic coursed through the area. The guards all turned to look at the Nein, confusion drained out as their resolve begins to crystallize.

“Stop! Thieves!”

“Shit,” Nott shouted, looking to Caleb’s body on the ground, the kid just barely up. She ducked next to them, crossbow at the ready. “Don’t die,” she muttered.” They nodded. They were trying not to.

Vera’s magical sleet melted into the sea as the guards began to seize the group. One leapt for Yasha, who brushed him off without trying. In her rage to push from the first she was grabbed by a second guard. A third attempted to grab Mollymauk, who ducked out of the way. The fourth went for Rowan, who squeaked. But the man bumped up against the invisible Caduceus. Undeterred, the guard wrapped his arms around the invisible firbolg. Rowan could feel Caduceus’s hand pull them down down, almost to the ground, as he dodged away. 

Nott ducked under one guard’s arms. A second came after her, but she leapt. Her feet hit the man’s arms and she twisted in the air, doding yet another guard. Deftly, she landed out of their collective arms, screeching.

Mollymauk grabed the kid’s cloak from Caduceus’s hands and ran. He dodged most of the hands that come his way. But Rowan felt a hand clamp on their forearm, the hood of their cloak pulled back. The fabric cut into their throat, choking them. They tried to wrestle their way free, but the guard wrenched them from Molly’s hold. An arm wrapped around their torso. A hand blessedly free, they smack it into the guard’s face. Lightning arced from their fingers. He twitched, but held tight. They were unable to break free from the grapple. 

On the ship, the crew turned against the Barlgura. Heavy crossbow bolts sunk into its furry hide, the crew shouting and attempting to destroy the demon on the deck. It jumped onto Vera, thrashing her. Its teeth sunk in, blood spotting her torso. It smashed, fists pummeling her with raging, demonic fury. Throttled but focused, she holds the guards under her control. 

Avantika turned to Nott and— seeing how the goblin slipped from three guards’ grasps, each in quick succession— sent blasts of eldritch energy her way. One bolt glanced across her chin. On the ground, she somersaults away from the second one. 

Yasha shrugged off the guard holding her, pointed, and shouted, “Not me! Them!” The charm holding their minds stayed in tact. She grunted, screaming at them. But she did not attack; she gripped her sword between her white-knuckled fists. 

Caduceus popped back, the invisibility wearing off. “Hey,” he said, giving the guards a little wave. “I’m just going to help my friend there. Not going anywhere.” With a wave of his hand, Rowan felt Bless rest on their shoulders, that faint tickling feeling of hope rising in their chest. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to make it through this one. They saw his gaze flick to Caleb, still on the ground and so, so far away. The firbolg took a step, but towards Yasha. He tapped Yasha on the shoulder, her wounds stitching up a bit. 

With a nod, Mollymauk looked towards the fallen wizard. Fjord rushed forwards, closing the distance to Caleb as he slid to his knees. Two guards attempted to grab him, but he shrugged passed. “Help me help this man!” He demanded, pouring a potion down Caleb’s throat.

“I think I skinned my face,” the wizard groaned. His eyes flickered open. His gaze moved to Nott, who had slipped her guards and rushed forward. She had her crossbow aimed at the guards between herself and her boy. Caleb sat up, looking at the ship. At the fire and the literal demon aboard it. 

Behind the Nein, Bouldergut turned and stepped up to the Barlgura, two monstrous strikes whalloping it. With every hit, she shouted, “Go to sleep!”

Stumbling up the stairs, Vera’s hands erupted in fire. Flames licked her palm, as the Barlgura punched. It connected, but the flame launched from her hand. Three streaks of fire leaked from her fingers, hitting the demon in its chest. It roared, the fire seeming to do less damage than it should. Her own cry of fury joined Bouldergut’s. 

Just now standing up, Caleb trudged a few feet forward, fire growing between his fingers. Just before crumbling, he launched a fireball towards the Squall Eater. The ball of fire arced in the air, high and long, before it connected in an explosion. It landed near the demon, flames growing for a second time. The barlgura sizzled up and disappeared. Tearing his gaze from the screaming on the ship, Caleb looked towards Fjord, blood leaking down half his scratched face. Three members of the Squall Eater fell to their knees, never to stand again. Vera, too, crumbled to the ground, the guards blinking in confusion. Her control, as her life, had gone. 

The wizard, bleeding but standing, blinked. His eyes glazed over, unfocused. Fjord’s cries of worry went unheard. Guards descend upon them, the warlock unresisting, the wizard lost to memories. Fjord looked back at the others before his head was shoved down to the ground. 

Mollymauk faltered, looking at his two pinned to the ground. There were just five left, now, in this fight. He turned and looked at Rowan, kicking and screaming— wordless— in the arms of a guard. His fingers twitched against his blades, but he made no motion to attack. “Put the kid down,” he commanded, turning to the guard. “They’ll not harm you.”

“Like hell they won’t! Shocked me in the face!”

He stood to his full height, livid. “Well then maybe you shouldn’t have grabbed them!” He screamed back, red eyes sparking. The guard, though, stood unphased. Yasha stepped forward, but was blocked by her trio of guards. Beside the tiefling, Caduceus made no move to fight. Instead, he locked eyes with Yasha, an unspoken decision flitting between them. 

Everything went quiet.

As the moment of combat sizzled into a tense stalemate, Rowan tore their attention from the arms around them. Guards surrounded the others of the Mighty Nein, held back. They saw the fallen forms of Fjord and Caleb, still dogpiled by guards a hundred feet away. Bouldergut was down, the club in her grasp smoking, flames still licking up the wood. Fire crawled across the shipboards, snaking around corners. On the ship lay more dead bodies— still and unmoving. Charred. Blackened. 

Their limbs went numb as their whole body convulsed. This… they’d been in combat before. But not like this. Not when surrounded by dangerous, possibly evil pirates. Not when someone was holding them back. Not when Beau and Jester were gone, Caleb unblinking and captured, Fjord worried at his side, Nott unresisting as hands wrenched her crossbow from her hands. The smell of burning flesh. The dying screams. The _fear_. 

They closed their eyes, trying to block everything out. Tears rushed down their face.

Furry ears twitched at the sound of wet, wheezing breaths. “Let me do something, please,” Caduceus grumbled at the guard holding him back. His head swivelled to Rowan, half-crumpled in the arms of a guard. “It’s not dangerous, I promise.”

“No can do,” the guard said, grabbing his shirt collar. 

“Can’t you see the kid’s afraid?” Mollymauk shot back, pushing against his captor. The guard held on, and he lashed his tail in a halfhearted gesture. “Just let them go.”

Rowan kicked a bit more, sobbing. “Not when they can zap a person’s face off!” Soundless, they went limp, almost dropping from the guard’s arms. He cursed, holding them from falling onto the wooden dock. “Plank King’ll want to know about that.”

“Fuck,” Molly breathed, looking over at them. “Stay with us, please.” 

“Take a deep breath, kiddo.” Caduceus tried to calm them, but they didn’t seem to hear. “Kid, please, look at me.” They just cried. Worry coloring his tone, Caduceus grunted, “Rowan—” Their face shot up, a bit of shock and panic wrenching their attention to his pink and grey face. 

“Breathe, kid. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Mollymauk said, watching their teary gaze flickered over to him. “Not if we can help it.” Manacles clamped around his wrists as he shot them another look. “Don’t struggle. It’ll be worse if you do.”

“That I can agree with,” the guard chuckled, merciless, as iron wrapped their wrists. 

Holding his manacled hands up, placating, Caduceus said, “Just being fair, letting you all know, I’m going to try healing everybody—” 

“No spellcasting,” the guard holding Rowan said, shoving them down beside Caduceus. They curled into his side, feeling Mollymauk sit beside them, Yasha kneel behind them. Guards pushed and prodded the onlookers back, stopping one from casting a spell. “Don’t worry,” the guard repeated, “Please hold tight. We’re taking care of it.” 

Everyone waited. Whispers and rumors, bits and pieces of the combat repeated and recited. The crowd murmured, wondering what everything was about. Rowan felt Yasha’s hand in theirs; the rough feeling of her calluses. Absentminded, they traced the feeling of them beneath the pads of their fingers. 

A minute passed. Mollymauk shuffled closer so he could pull their cloak around their shoulder. With a gentle hand, he felt the cut from the crossbow bolt. Face still embedded against Caduceus’s side, Rowan hissed from the touch. Twitching back, he sighed.

Five minutes passed. Shifting from her crouch, Yasha sat down.

Ten, then twenty, then thirty minutes passed. Rowan’s tears dried up, hiccups turning to shaky breaths. Their nose was stuffed, their body tired. It felt misty in their brain, too, like the weather had found its way in between cracks in their facade and sunk its cold, wet fingers into their thoughts.

Another ten minutes passed. With a snap, Caleb summoned Frumpkin. He sent the fae cat to curl against Rowan’s shoulders, purring. He, too, leaned against Caduceus, who took the opportunity to check the wizard’s wounds over. Even if he was unable to heal his teammates, he would keep them up, keep them ready.

Ten more minutes. 

Another ten.

The crowd stayed by the docks, some jostling to the front to see the newcomers. Others left, joining back into the crowd with a tankard of ale, or bits of stale bread. Hunks of cheese, even. Not much ever happened in Darktow, not like this. From the voices, hushed by the sheer number of onlookers, it sounded as though mpst had never heard of fighting reaching Darktow. Most stopped in the reefs. There was certainly enough cover there. 

Over an hour passed, seven of the Nein crumpled in a bloody pile, before Beauregard appeared. Three guards flanked her, but not to clap her in irons. With a smirk of satisfaction across her face she stepped aside, the looming figure of the Plank King stepping forward, taking center stage, all eyes snapping to attention.

The goliath walked forwards, looking down at seven of the nine members of the Nein. “Not here but twenty four hours,” he drawled, glaring, “and you’ve already made a mess of our little home, have you?” Straightening up to look at the blackened deck of the Squall Eater, he added, “I could see the flames from my Roost. My crow’s men tell me they spotted you walking aboard the Squall Eater. You assaulted Avantika, one of our own. A few of you apparently fled into the city.

“You know I have my misgivings about trusting anyone, but I’m far more likely to toss in with those that I’ve mistrusted long enough to at least know where they stand.” Looking at the Nein, and back towards Beauregard, he added, “I don’t know a fucking bit about all of you. So my other friend—” he pointed towards a hooded figure, who pulled forward. With a flick of his head, Jamedi stared at the group of captured adventurers, nodding in acknowledgement— “says that you’ve all come in with her lot naught but two weeks back.

“I’m going to ask you, right now,” he glared down at the Nein, “what brought you out there, to mucking with the pirates’ deals.” After no one spoke for a beat, he shouted, “Speak up!” 

“We understand your distrust, Fjord said, sitting as upright as he could, “we are new here, and we only beg your patience as we prove ourselves before you. Avantika and her crew were up to foul deeds.” He looked over at the captain, whose gaze could kill. “Our friend Beau, here, I trust has shown you the captain’s journal.” 

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb piped up, “I am the one who deciphered it. The entries about the Plank King— and wanting to take over the entire sea, and having the Plank King… if I remember the words here… ‘bend the knee?’” His gaze lingered on Avantika’s face. “It is towards the end of the tome.” 

“Great king,” Fjord piped up again, “If you may, time we have.” It’s certainly at your whim that we serve. I think it would only be fair to ask that we remain under guard while your compatriot here translates that text.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” the Plank King growled. “What brought you to these waters? Why’d you throw in with her lot?”

“Well,” Beau said, leaning back on one leg as her arms twisted in front of her. “We’re from all over Wildemount. Hired mercenaries from the Empire. I’m with a secret order of monks at the Cobalt Soul, known as the Expositors.” Whispers laced through the onlookers, some affirming the existence of these spy-like monks. “Avantika has been a person of interest that we’ve been wanting to investigate for some time. She’s disrupted our shores long enough. We decided to… investigate.” 

The Plank King turned to look back at her. “Where does your allegiance lie?”

“My allegiance is with the Cobalt Soul, separate from any other persons here.” 

His eyes narrowed at her. After a beat, he nodded. “The Archives. I’ve had some dealings.” He nodded again, giving her a new once-over. “Your folk have done good work for our interests in the past. So!” Turning his gaze on Avantika, he sneered. “It’s the woman of the hour. What have you to say against these strangers who’ve waltzed in and caused a ruckus in our little haven?” 

“Well,” the woman said, face full of fury, “I can guarantee that I kept no such journal. They came to me at sea with discussion of perhaps joining my crew, looking for means of aid, gold. They began to talk of this entity, this Uk’otoa. I simply followed suit.” The lies left her mouth smooth as silk. “I wanted to make an alliance. I did, particularly with one member.” Her gaze fixed on Fjord, who looked away. “It seems such a… romance was merely just another way to toss me to the merrow, if you will.” She spat in his direction. “They’ve killed my crew. They’ve taken a number of my things. They’ve damaged my ship, the ship I’ve been captaining for the last ten years! Even used the memory of Vandran against me.”

Whispers echoed the name back, filling the surrounding area. 

“Vandran raised this one,” she jerked her head towards Fjord, “and the boy turned on him, sabotaged Vandran’s ship. Blew it asunder,” she added, voice darkening, “In the middle of the ocean.” Whipping her head to the Plank King, she decreed, “He’s already killed one of our own. Is this untrue?”

The look she cast over her shoulder sent ice down Rowan’s spine. “Plank King, if I may,” Fjord said, voice tight, “My ears, though pointy, can only stand a certain amount of dishonesty. I would prefer to cut through the bull. There are those among us who can make her speak the truth. I beg of you, allow that to happen now.” He looked over at Caduceus, who nodded in affirmation. The firbolg looked at Jester and Beau, who both smiled. 

“What’s necessary for such a thing,” the King asked, looking down his nose at Fjord. He kept his eyes on the half-orc. 

“Honorable Plank King, the means justify the ends. My compatriot here will place her Cobalt knuckles upon the chin of Avantika and you will hear the truth. You need only but ask her your questions.”

The goliath took a half-step back, looking back to Beau. “Be my guest,” he drawled, a sneer growing over his face once more. The monk all but sprinted forward, popping the captain in the face. With the first connected fist, a haze fell over Avantika’s face.

“You have sixty seconds,” she said, leaning back on her heels. “But I have more knuckles.”

“Avantika, is what they’re saying true?” The Plank King knelt next to her when she didn’t respond, repeating himself. “Tell me,” he commanded, “Is that book of yours filled with passages where you’re looking to take this island for yourself?” The captain looked away. He reached out, grabbed her face in his meaty hand and turned it so she was eye to eye with his cold stare. “Look me in the eye, woman.”

A beat of silence. Something in Rowan seized up, their body filled with the apprehensive hope and visceral fear of those surrounding them. 

Rowan’s heart clambered up into their throat as the Plank King stood up, looking around to the pirates that surrounded him. “By the power of the Revelry that surrounds me, let this be a lesson to those who would work against the words we swore to each other on this land. May your memory be besmirched for the few days it’s recalled.” 

With an enormous hand, he picked Avantika up by her neck, meaty fingers digging into her tanned skin.   
Without a second’s pause, he lifted her. She scrabbled at his hands, fingers clawing at his vice-like grip on her neck. 

The manacles and bruises around their arms itched, singed against their skin. 

When her feet cleared the deck she began to choke, words muted by the crushing of her throat. 

Rowan took a last, choking, gasping breath along with the captain. 

“I hope,” he said, thunderous in his rage, “your sea god, wherever it is, is merciful on the other side.”

A crack, loud enough that it echoed in the silent stares of hundreds of people. The tension in Avantika’s body drained, every particle of her going lifeless in the Plank King’s grasp. 

They felt their body sway as the captain dropped to the ground, a thundering of limbs dead before they touched the earth. Something twisted around their head, pressing inwards, the light of the misty morning darkening until just a pinprick of light was left. 

Then it went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Doable, when I have enough coffee in my system. 
> 
> Looking forward to some of the chapters that may come out soon-- I've been holding onto a couple of ideas for SO LONG YOU GUYS.
> 
> Time jumps will start in earnest, from here on out. Know that I'll keep things mostly canon, and if I don't specifically write about something, assume it stays canon-adjacent.


	16. Twiggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fainting when the Plank King crushed Avantika one-handed, Rowan wakes up and realizes their position with the Nein is in rough waters. The Happy Fun Ball keeps them from talking to the Nein, at least for a while.

The thing about fainting, Rowan found out, was that it solved nothing.

They awoke in Yasha’s lap, groggy, but a moment later. Nothing had fixed the fact that Fjord had little idea as to what he wanted out of the next leg of the adventure. Nothing had repaired the heat-blistered mainmast, the singed sails, the hobbling speed of the ship. Nothing had solved the problems they’d already encountered; any person with information about Vandran, the Tide’s Breath, or Uk’otoa… the Nein would not meet them on Darktow. 

As the Squall Eater stumbled through the Dragshallow Reefs and out to unclaimed waters, the group looked to their captain. He was, well and truly, the captain again. For better or worse, Fjord looked to Orly and said, “Onto the Diver’s Grave, then,” 

With a shrug, the others followed suit. To learn more, to have a hope of finding answers to the questions lingering in Fjord’s mind, they had to go and face Deshilla. To go underwater, sinking down into the shaded, silty depths of the sea, and search around broken ships. To poke at dead bodies. To traipse into territory the entire group knew was dangerous— it had a song and a mythos and all of it.

And of course, Rowan wasn’t allowed to dive down with the rest of the Nein. They watched with Orly and the rest of the beleaguered crew as the Nein dropped below the tides, two to a cannonball, their bodies disappearing towards the teal-colored sands many fathoms below. 

This time, though, they didn’t try to push their luck. Instead they kept out of the way as best they could. Nestled above the deck, their arms and legs woven through the netted shrouds, Rowan worked the tiny bit of magic at their disposal to help mend the ship’s main sail. 

Every once in a while, one of the crew would start a soft shanty, others following. Songs, chorussed by the numerous sailors below and above them, called out to the salty air. “Oh! Give me a wet sheet a flowing sea,” Marius’s voice called up, “And a wind that follows fast— and fills the white and rustling sail — and bends the gallant mast—”

Their fingers glowing with magic, Rowan wondered. Wondered what the Nein would do, now that their presence was so utterly… useless. Their heart raced, an uncomfortable feeling settling in their stomach, when they thought of the Plank King. Looking at their hands, they realized one thing— nothing they knew would’ve tousled a stolen lock of hair on that man’s head. So if they were not a boon in a fight, would they not become the bane of the Nein’s existence? 

The scar on their neck itched. When their fingers trailed over it, the wound felt rough and bumpy. A bit warm. What of the danger, their mind reminded them, of keeping a runaway around. A runaway who may’ve only imagined people coming after them. If this whole nautical adventure— Fjord waking up, coughing up brine and midnight horrors, dragging his friends about the sea to find some kind of closure— if that was what being hunted meant… 

It probably meant Rowan was safe. They would be safe back on dry land. Safe in some person’s house. Safe to live a normal life, to grow up, to become a part of society. Idly, they dug their nails into the scar, scratching at the discomfort. The heat flared and they clawed at it more.

So if being on the run wasn’t necessary, and being with the Nein wasn’t necessary, what would happen?

Exhausted in more ways than one, they drew the pouch of sewing supplies forward. With a rough yank, they felt the threads splitting, ripping. But they dutifully threaded the needle and started sewing patches on the areas they could not fix. Around and below them, sailors sang into the blue surroundings. The unending nature of it all was not helpful. Without a point on the horizon to point themselves to, Rowan did their best not to look at the flat way the horizon ran in a circle around them.

The Squall Eater would sail to Bisaft Isle. The Nein would repair the ship, invariably find a place to dump Rowan, and be off. Because what else would they do?

The song ended somewhere below them, the crew laughing and cheering Marius on, egging the sailor for an encore. Glad for the noise, Rowan hid their sniffling over the sounds of gaiety below. “Littlest one?” Marius shouted up, looking into the rigging. “I hear there’s a canon that needs your touch!” Nodding, they clambered back to deck and went below, hoping that in the half-darkness of the lower decks nobody would notice the wet tracks on their face.

* * *

And then there was Twiggy.

There was a simple explanation for why Rowan hated Twiggy. Despite the fact that she was a stowaway, the little gnome was adorable; and if Jester’s exclamations were to be believed, in cuteness and all other things important Twiggy was far superior to them. She was sweet and kind and excited and not quiet at all. She could _talk_. Something in their chest twisted when she saw how easy it was for her and Jester to chat. How everyone asked her lots of questions. 

To top it off, she’d given the Nein a mysterious, clockwork orb riddled with arcane unknowns. They could almost see how Caleb stared at it, wondering. Heat flowed to their cheeks— if only he’d turned that look of curiosity and wonder towards them...

The final blow came not soon after that. 

“I don’t want to be responsible for someone like Kiri, someone who can’t defend themselves.”

Jester had decided that the gnome should stay with them forever. She pouted at Fjord, looking towards Twiggy. “But she’s so cute!”

“Yeah, not about that life,” he shrugged. The conversation flowed back around them, and Rowan just slipped away. Watching this whole thing made their stomach crunch and face feel feverish. They scratched at their neck as they climbed up to the fo’c’sle, by the bowsprit, to watch the sea before the Squall Eater. 

It was quiet, there; they could not hear Twiggy’s perky voice. Until Caleb twisted the ball ‘round, pushed it just so, and a black whole materialized on deck.

Between the Nein, the circle of inky blackness disappeared. A second time, Caleb pushed the button. Fjord lowered a rope in. Jester wondered aloud over its complete and utter nothingness. A finger poked through, coming back clean and whole. And then, without another look around, eight figures dove in, Twiggy included. Everyone, except for Rowan. 

—And Yasha. 

They scrambled forwards, grabbing the orb as it closed and clinked and locked. The little nails they had dug into the small cracks between metal plates and pulled. Scraping, jarring sounds were all they got— and a broken nail. Sticking the offending finger in their mouth to soothe the pain, Rowan sniffled. 

See? This is what they got for being useless. Twiggy knew _Suggestion_. Twiggy knew _Mage Hand_. Twiggy knew so much Rowan had no hope of learning. Of course the Nein would leave with her and not them.

At that point, the barbarian had reached them. “Kid,” she mumbled, reaching out, “Please, just put the ball down.” 

Reality hurt. Rowan’s whole body shook as they turned, curling in on themselves. Their arms wrapped around the still, motionless orb; the cold metal in their arms echoed the icy feeling in their gut. The kid shied away from her, turning so far away from her outstretched arms so as to flip over. 

On the other hand, Yasha being left behind didn’t fit. Fear shot up their spine, so unlike the raw anger that had singed its way across their face before. Why would the group— Mollymauk included— jump into a void of nothingness without the very strong, very powerful, very useful barbarian? It was beyond them. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t on purpose. If it was a mistake, why weren’t they coming back to get her? Or were they trapped? Gone for good?

Yasha glanced over at the kid’s desperate, angry form, her mismatched eyes full of confusion and concern. The squinched expression on their face had lapsed into a sort of blank horror, only to be replaced by abject sorrow a moment later. Nobody left aboard quite understood what happened to the other seven members of the eight who’d gone.

But they knew one thing. Rowan and Yasha had been left behind. 

She shared a look with Orly, who hummed to himself. The captain was gone. The first mate was gone. The navigator nodded his tortle head to the other crewmembers taking a tentative step closer. Yasha shook her head— she had no idea what she should do, let alone the crew. “We’ll sail on,” Orly decided, his voice calm but hesitating, “And if they’re not back before we arrive, we’ll dock the ship for repairs.” Everyone who heard hesitated for a moment, but assented, going back to whatever task they’d been performing before. 

Where had they all gone? Into an orb smaller than her torso? It was possible, with magic. What was also possible was that the Nein had been whisked away by some unseen force. That they were teleported somewhere new. That they were gone, irrevocably gone. 

Or that they were dead. It was the uncertainty that weighed more. 

They should’ve left that fucking orb alone. They should’ve known it was a trap. What kind of trap she did not know. But not one she ever wanted to know about.

She looked to the storm clouds on the horizon. Yasha felt like she would be able to sense whether Mollymauk was dead or not. And she didn't feel that sinking terror that pulled her heart into her gut. She did not have that moment of uncontrolled sadness. She did not feel guilty over something she largely could not control. 

No. The Nein were alive, she decided. They had to be. 

“Small one,” Yasha said, striding over and putting her hand out again, “That won’t bring them back.” She paused, plowing through with a desperate, “This is magic. They are not gone. We will wait for them to come back.” 

The crew watched as the kid huffed, protecting the orb as best they could. Their arms were tense, head down, knees collapsed in. Their breath came in quiet heaves, choking on tears. Yasha sat beside them, not reaching out and not touching them. They weren't relenting. She had a respect for that. 

“Then I will wait with you.” 

Rowan didn’t react. 

“It is all we can do. Wait. Watch.” 

A sniff. 

After a few more fumbling attempts at a conversation— she knew the kid could not respond with words, but she was hoping they would respond with some change in posture or _something_ — she asked aloud to the crew on deck, “The man atop the mast is called the lookout, yes?” 

Most nodded vague answers, trying to figure out why she asked. 

Turning back to the kid, Yasha said, “You can be our lookout. Watch the ball. Let us know if anything changes.”

The group was silent, watching the barbarian coax the tiny kid with gentle words. The softness of her speech surprised them; the scene made an odd picture. Despite the intense picture of wrath and might Yasha proved to be on the battlefield, her personality was one with a good deal of softness. Her quiet voice and of her kind actions juxtaposed the raw power of her form. It did not keep her from being a force of nature, full of danger and fury. Both were true, but neither was the full extent.

A bit of light split through the cloudy morning. “Sounds like a good idea,” Marius said, sitting down on their other side. He tried to put a hand on their shoulder, but Rowan slapped it away. “We’re kinda busy with seven hands gone… so we’re going to have to rely on you. Can we trust you, littlest one?”

Over the golden orb, they glared. Then they just flopped to the side, their head landing in Yasha’s lap, their fingers clawed at the ball. If it were anything but metal, their nails would’ve carved hundreds of lines into the thing. 

“I say,” Orly mumbled, “Let them cry it out. Just a kid, after all.” He looked to the crew, and said, “No one’s to take the… whassit? Funny Happy Ball… from the kiddo, alright?” The crew shrugged a confused affirmative. “Maybe you should take them below deck,” Marius said, sighing. He looked down at the kid, whose face was growing redder. “Soon.” 

The barbarian scooped the kid up, the Happy Fun Ball held in their firm grip. Two minutes later, she set them on their bunk, sitting on her own. Opposite to them, she watched for a while. It took them five more minutes of clawing desperation before they broke what little nail they did have, winced, and gave up. They hit the Happy Fun Ball, angry fist coming away with a small bruise. She sighed, and decided to just leave them be.

Yasha set about her usual tasks. But every hour or so she’d drop in, peeking her head around the doorframe. When they were visible from under their blankets, Rowan’s eyes were pink and puffy. Either tears streamed down their cheeks or danced on their lashes. The anger had ebbed away into a sadness that she could understand. It was lonely, being the ones left behind. Yet no amount of convincing them that the rest of the Nein was safe ever helped. It seemed to frustrate them further; their hands would start clawing at the ball with renewed vigor in an uncontrolled way. 

Yasha was at a loss. From her perspective… maybe this was their payback? She’d left the Nein often enough. Or was it cosmic payback— as Molly would say— as though the world was paying her back the karma she’d accrued so far? Why did they leave without her? Did they not trust her any longer? And what of her friend, her longest confidant to date? Why would Molly leave her? What had she done to offend him? When the questions grew into a headache, she would find Orly. 

The tortle looked her over and asked her, in his mumbling way, if she knew how to sew. She helped mend the sails, still a bit worse for wear after Caleb’s _Wall of Fire_ and _Fireball_. The work was good, it kept her busy. The thread in her hand rolled as she pulled the needle through as far as her arm span would allow. Gracefulness and tidiness of stitches wasn’t important. But she built up a steady rhythm to her work. As she relaxed into it, a thought flickered through her mind. Would they be able to return at all?

Orly gave her a new task, when she’d chewed the thread off and tossed the lot into a basket. He asked her to inventory the ship’s food stores. Pencil and paper in hand, she wandered around the kitchen and the hold as she noted down crates of tropical fruits, barrels of fresh water, and pieces of dried meats. Keeping track of all the vitols took up more of her attention. Satisfied she’d recorded all she could, she trudged back on deck. 

If they were gone for real, why hadn't she felt that hole in her heart she assumed would be there?

She tossed the papers towards the tortle before heading downstairs. He took no offense, based on his chuckle, but she decided she’d apologize later. 

Rowan was still under the covers, the ball held between their knees. Bits of broken fingernails lay by spots of blood by their feet. They were silent— silent in the way that made her more nervous than before. And unsure. The barbarian made no attempt to be subtle or sneaky as she began taking her armor and weapons off. A silence hung in the air, broken only by the shuffling of things or the clang of her greatswords. While the kid’s tears had dried up, she let her own fall. That was one thing the pair shared— the silent way in which both mourned. She could do nothing more than think. 

And hope. Hope that the Storm Lord would guide her.

That night was the hardest. The storm that’d hovered on the horizon struck. Lightning and thunder ripped the sky into flashes of white and cacophonous rumbling. If she were on land, carefree and without responsibilities, Yasha would’ve stayed in the rain. She would’ve held her face to the sky, felt the icy water run down her skin, felt the joy that ran through her as thunder shook her to her lungs. But the kid couldn’t stay asleep for long, woken by the sounds, the lights, the terrors that plagued their dreams. 

Twice they’d all but leapt from their bunk, the ball rolling onto the wooden floor with a resounding thud. Lightning was their only source of light; the flashes illuminated a sweaty forehead and a wrinkled brow. They had no words, to explain what they’d seen in their dreams; when Yasha asked for guidance their signs were broken by hiccuping breaths. She could only understand a fraction of what they said. 

She felt alone, again.

So Yasha left and climbed above deck, staring at the darkened sky. She stood on the aftcastle, watching the water the Squall Eater left behind. Rain, in sheets, plastered her hair to her face. Her hands gripped the railing, knuckles whiter than her pale skin. Her mind floated without a compass in the rough seas. Desperate and sudden, she felt the desire to jump off the back of the ship and swim somewhere. Anywhere. Swim to shore and go. To leave and go. 

Lightning arced across the sky. She counted the seconds, before watching the burst of energy pierce the waves not a moment later. The thunder rumbled in her torso. That uneven feeling steadied. The winds pushed her; she took a step back to keep from falling. The rain drove into her eyes until she had to blink and look down. She sighed.

She was not the most intelligent of the Nein, but she would listen when the Storm Lord spoke. 

Dawn began, as the winds broke and the clouds snaked across the sun. She made her way under. Marius was out cold, sitting next to the kid’s swaying hammock, with Orly watching from the doorway. How long had she been on deck? The pair awoke at her approach and left; she did not care if they looked over their shoulders at the puddles she left in her wake. As Yasha took up post, sopping wet and chilled, the kid stirred. They blinked as she pulled a blanket close and toweled off, small hands drawing the blankets over their shoulders. “Sleep, if you can,” she instructed them, brushing a hand over their head. It felt warm. Then again, her hands must’ve been icy from the biting wind. 

The kid closed their eyes; if they slept, it wasn’t well.

That second day, the kid didn’t come above decks. She was put to work— repairing the small things broken by the storm, fixing up pieces of the ship still damaged from fire. Each time the ship creaked below, she felt a surge of something rise in her throat. Was it hope that almost choked her when she heard a door slam? Perhaps. But when she saw Marius walk on deck, and her heart twinged for the umpteenth time that day, she turned back to her work. Keeping her hands and mind busy rose to top priority. 

The last of the rainclouds edged across the horizon as the noon heat dried up the last puddles. The ship wasn’t put back together, but it was the best they could do. Without any magic to repair the ship, stitchery and carpentry had to do. The sailors kept her busy, as she asked them to, with small jobs after that. Fetching water. Carrying heavy things. Cleaning the canons. Twice. 

Dinner was a quiet and solemn thing. After finishing the stew Orly had attempted to create, she looked around and realized Rowan wasn’t there. It wasn’t hard to find them— nobody else had seen them that day. With a hearty portion of sad stew, Yasha returned to check on them. 

They weren’t under the covers, this time. The blanket lay strewn across the floor, kicked off in their sleep. Evidenced by the leg that hung off the edge of the hammock; it looked as though they’d fall over at any time if not counterbalanced by the orb they were still clutching. Now with burning hands. She felt the tortle’s presence behind her. “Fever,” she said, sighing. 

Nodding, Orly clicked his claws at one of the crewmembers. “Don’t think we ever bothered to hire a healer… And Miss Jester and your… pink friend are in that contraption.” Thinking for a moment, he stuttered, “But we’ve some kits. Bout all we can do,” he shrugged, giving her a worn look. “They’ll be fine in a day or two. You just take care of them, yeah?”

It took a bit longer than a day or two for the kid to feel better. In the meantime, Yasha kept nearby. Rowan pushed themselves up and tried to answer her questions. But their signing was sluggish, and magic came too hard to use. After trying to explain what they were feeling for the fourth time in a row, of watching as Yasha tried to understand, they stopped. It wasn’t that they couldn’t. Their fingers were fine. They were much too bitter and much too tired and much too sick to continue watching Yasha stumble through the motions without comprehending. The crew watched as the barbarian drooped a bit further. 

Kids don’t get fevers from nothing, she knew that. For almost a year the circus had been her home, long enough to help Toya through a bug or two. Hells, she’d even experienced plenty herself, especially after long and barren winters in Xhorhas. 

While the kid was napping, she grazed her hand against their skin. There was undoubtedly a warmth that bloomed from their forehead and cheeks. Their hair— what was a point of pride for Jester and Molly to help keep pretty and clean almost in spite of their newfound love of climbing into canons— now stuck to their forehead again. It was hard not to remember the night they all met, of their glassy expression and dewy forehead.

Blinking, she remembered something. With gentle hands, making sure she wouldn’t scrape them with her fingernails, she peeled back the collar of their tunic. Underneath, their scar growled red and angry. Sighing, she pressed a gentle finger against the skin.

The kid reacted, slower from their sleep but quick enough. A wavering hand pushed her fingers away and they rolled over. She chuckled. Placing a cool finger on it again, she watched as the kid forced her hand away a second time, lips moving as though mumbling to themselves. “Not a good spot then, huh?” She asked, not expecting an answer as they curled up into a ball,.

To her surprise, they made a strangled noise in the back of their throat. Guess it never healed right, she thought, standing up. “I’m going to get a healer’s kit.” She pushed their hair from their head again. It’s what Molly would’ve done. 

Somewhere in her soul she missed the circus. Of course she would— they were like a family to her. She tried not to remember Toya, tried not to fall into the nostalgia of those soft memories, tried not to superimpose her memories of one child onto the other. 

The kid was so quiet, such a blank canvas. No past the Nein knew of. Their whole existence was a mystery. 

But it was a mystery that they were willing to share, if but a piece. Six days after the Nein had left, on the one afternoon they felt well enough to leave their bunk and go onto deck, they sat with Yasha at the prow. The two watched the waves, wondering how long it would be until the Nein came back. 

“I do not know,” Yasha started, voice quiet and steady as always, “If I like the water.” The kid looked up at her, nodding. “It seems lonely.”

The kid leaned into her side, moving their hands to cast. They suspended the words where the two could see, but it would be private enough. “Yeah,” she agreed, reading it in her mind, “It’s pretty.”

For a moment, the two grew silent again. Then, though their casting was interrupted by a few coughs, the kid started to explain. They talked about an old woman, speaking of her with a fondness that Yasha had seen directed to Caduceus and sometimes Jester. Every once in a while, the soft smile they held was once directed to Nott or Molly. She realized now that she’d seen it, herself. _Is this love,_ she realized, _the love of a child for their parents? Does the child see us as family?_

Rowan kept casting, the words forming a story. Of how hurt they were, when their voice was ripped from their throat. Of the pain they felt in their heart and in their neck. Of a night spent packing whatever they could think of, stuffing it into their little bag. They hoofed it into the darkness, not looking back. In the black world, their head swam. They had faint memories, their hands explained, vague pictures of what had happened. Rowan knew they left home. They knew they wandered long, wandered far, wandered deep into a forest. And they knew someone found had them. 

Her name was Ameile. Yasha watched as the kid explained how this healer found them, how she took them in and cared for them until their fever and infection had gone down. They learned about plants, how flowers and roots and stems could be used to heal. To mend. Like magic, but from nature. 

The kid wondered, at length, how far Ameile’s house was from their own. Maybe, when they were really little, they’d met the healer woman. Or maybe their family had seen her before. It couldn’t have been more than a day or two’s walk away. Yet they were never found. The forest became their home. Ameile became their home.

Looking up to Yasha, they added in sign, _Now, this is my home._ They gestured to the newly rechristened Ball Eater. _The Nein is my home._

“It sounded like a nice home,” she agreed. Looking out onto the waters, she asked, “Why did you leave?”

 _She died,_ their hands explained. 

_One day, she told me she was dying. That soon she would not be there to protect me. She gave me her box of things and told me to go. Her body would go back to the ground. She packed her things and headed off for a place somewhere far away. She called it a graveyard. Ameile said she wanted her body to be turned into something useful._

They nodded into Yasha’s body, curling into her side. The winds had grown cold as night filled the sky with stars. She touched their forehead— it was hot, again. With a sigh, she picked them up and took them downstairs. 

It was possible, Yasha reflected as she pulled the kid’s blanket over their shoulders, that it was Caduceus’s family who saw Ameile last. That the Blooming Grove was the place Ameile walked her dying body to. But she did not think on it any longer; it was such a small chance. Yasha had more pressing matters to worry about, to dwell on. Like whatever in the world the crew should do now they were in port. Like whether or not they could afford the fixes without the Nein’s gold, were they not to return. Like getting another healer’s kit, making something to ease the infection in the kid’s scar. 

Like figuring out whether or not their friends would ever return from that blasted ball. It was placed in a coil of rope now, out of Rowan’s hands. Something about pots and not boiling, as Orly had attempted to explain. If we don’t look in the box, the cat can be gone and there at the same time. Half a chance is good when nothing is terrifying.

Those questions took up every waking moment of the next day. Until, when nobody anticipated, the rest of the Mighty Nein and Twiggy burst out of the Happy Fun Ball again, almost dead but definitely alive. Almost dead but definitely alive and excitedly regaling Yasha, and the crew about their terrifying misadventures that— to them— only lasted a few hours at most. 

The group talked, Yasha explaining the kid’s state to the clerics. Both of them looked at her, stood up, and within minutes brought a tired but cured Rowan to the table. They listened to the stories the Nein had, listened to their plans to return to the mainland, listened to everyone discuss the future of their lives. 

And when everyone was going to bed, the kid hopped up and gave Yasha a big hug, fonder than they’d done so while the rest of the Nein was there. Molly gave her a proud but melancholy look from over their shoulder. She tried not to think of the circus, and of Toya, as she deposited the kid into their hammock.

They turned back to her, motioning with their hands for her attention. She watched as they slowed their fingers down and spelled something, clearly forming each letter.

“Rowan.” Yasha looked up at them. “Rowan?” She paused as she put the pieces together. “Your name is Rowan.”

 _It’s a kind of tree,_ their fingers informed her, _Ameile told me._

"I… Thank you,” she whispered, giving them a peck on the forehead. It's what Mollymauk would've done, and she'd seen Rowan preen at the affection. "I will keep it a secret." 

She would learn how to care for them, even if it took her a bit longer than the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually a very old piece that I rewrote to fit the storyline better. It started out as just sadness, but since I rewatched the episode, I realized the kid would be incredibly jealous. 
> 
> Am I using this to work through my own things? MAYBE SO.
> 
> But hey, it's fun. And hey! Progress. Growth.


	17. A Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Nein finds themselves back on Wildemount, they have a little talk about expectations and reality. Rowan begins to learn where they belong within the group. And maybe, this is the only way they know how to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically an edit of a previously posted version. Except I extended it a lot, seeing as how it didn't make sense to put the edits on its own chapter (imo there wasn't enough plot to dictate it). So if you come in expecting a new chapter, but reread the same beginning, that's not a mistake! Please skip down to "The Nein, Orly, and the rest of the crew," which is where the new half of the chapter is. Thank you for your patience!

Rowan woke up still on the Squall Eater— or was it now the Ball Eater?— their head fit between Yasha’s bicep and torso. They could feel both the rocking of the ship; the feeling of waves was still perceptible despite the cove that sheltered the ship. It was comfortable, there, to listen to her heartbeat and be rocked back to sleep by the waters. The sounds almost matched up— the barbarian’s heartbeat and the crashing waves. Calm was a good word for it. It’d been a while since they’d felt calm. 

Maybe it was the fact that none of the Nein seemed keen to drop them off on the island. Twiggy, however, was to leave. But the Nein heard how small the island was, how often it was stopped at by different armies and pirates alike, and decided Rowan would be safer with them. At least, for now. 

But the chances of them getting dropped were far away again. And so they could relax— listen to Yasha’s breathing, the creak of the ship, the shushing waves, and the distinct, subtle chiming sound of Mollymauk putting on his horn jewelry. 

“Are you awake, little one?” Yasha smoothed their hair with her hand and kissed the crown of their head, lazy with her affection. “I’ll wake Molly and see where the others are.”

“Already awake, darling,” the purple tiefling drawled, his tail swinging into Rowan’s line of sight. An earring hung off the pointed tip. “Heard them disembarking to deal with the ship’s repairs. Lot of money this thing took to fix up, huh?”

“Uh… I guess.” Yasha started to get up; Rowan let out a small groan as their head flopped from Yasha’s warm, soft body onto the uncomfortable hammock. “I did not much pay attention to the gold count.”

“Eh, we’ve got plenty from that Happy Fun Ball. Though, so far as I heard yesterday, it’s changed. Caleb said it’s a new configuration, so it won’t be _as_ easy to make it spit gold at us.” He threw his shirt on, tugging the laces gently past his horns. The laces were kept loose— it wasn’t tropical, per say, but the weather was still hotter than the wintery chills of the mainland. “You ready to go, Rowan?”

He froze.

“I’m so sorry—” he started, hands raised. Rowan shook their head, still face-down on the hammock. When he kept sputtering, they started flapping a hand lazily in the air.

“They told me,” Yasha said, by way of explanaiton.

“Oh!” Molly sighed, relief ironing out the wrinkles between his eyebrows. “That’s… that’s good. Could’ve had a lot of explaining to do.” He finished dressing, boots pulled over his calves before he paused. “Who have you told?”

Rowan pushed their elbows under them and craned their head back. Listing all the names off on one hand wasn’t too bad. Caduceus, Beau, Molly, Yasha… it was just about half of the party.

“Well, I will make sure not to lord it over Fjord or Nott.” Molly smirked, the face falling a bit. “Not Jester, yet?” When Rowan shrugged, he nodded. “I guess there hasn’t really been a chance to, huh.” The kid sighed, and kicked their feet over the edge of the hammock. “It’s your choice. Don’t feel like you need to tell everyone everything just ‘cause. I mean,” he paused, gesturing at himself, “I made up my name, so being flippant about everybody knowing Mollymauk Tealeaf is one thing. You’ve… you’ve got a reason to keep yours a secret, right?”

They nodded, eyes darting to the salt-crusted porthole window. Not only a reason, but several. Ameile had told them to keep it a secret, to keep the people that knew where they were to the bare minimum. They remembered her face, how hard and firm her expression was when she told them. When she stopped her hurried packing. When she grabbed the sides of their face with her hands. When she almost shook from the adrenaline coursing through her. 

WIth a blink, Rowan brought themselves back to the ship. Molly looked at them, head cocked to the side. “You okay?” They nodded. “Alright, then.” The tone of his voice was less than convinced; he hesitated before pulling the door open. “I’m going to find some food and then find the Nein.”

* * *

The trio joined the other six members of the Nein in an inn, food warmed and ready.

“What did that naval say to you about the war? What was I hearing?” Beau asked, leaning forward so her elbows sat on her knees.

Fjord rubbed at his chin, mumbling to keep his voice low. “He was saying they’ve made their way south into the town of Felderwin— snuck up from under the mountains and whatnot.” When he saw Mollymauk and Yasha slide into their seats, he clarified, “A Kryn attack. And much further south than they’ve ever been reported.”

Nott cleared her throat. “It’s where some of us are from.”

“You’re from Felderwin?”

The goblin looked over at Jester and nodded. “Around there, yeah.”

“Does that freak anybody else out?” Beau asked the group. Nott nodded. 

“What about your— you know…” Jester’s voice trailed off.

With a shrug, Nott said, “I dunno.” She looked at Beau, a bit confused. 

Clarifying, Beau grumbled, “It’s not far from my hometown, either. From Kamordah.”

At the name of a town Rowan actually knew, they blinked. Kamordah… it was the town in the mountains north of Deastock. They’d heard of it. They’d heard wine was sold there. When Fjord pulled the map out and considered it, their eyes strayed to the mountains of that region. It wasn’t super close to Felderwin— Zadash lay in the middle, along with hundreds of miles of land and a river— but if it was magic… the Kryn Dynasty could appear anywhere. 

“He said that they were traveling under the mountains, right?” She traced her finger along the map, connecting the journey the invaders must’ve taken. “Kamordah is a mountain town. So…”

Yasha furrowed her brow. “Who’s traveling under the mountains?”

At the same time, Nott grumbled, “Your people,” as Jester added, “The Xhorhasians.”

“All the soldiers here,” Fjord said, looking around at the other diners in the inn, “They were coming down the southern coast. Most likely in an effort not to get flanked, but. Yeah… They’re gearing up to be part of the war the Empire and the Dynasty are already a part of.”

Shaking her head, Beau said, “I think we should still go to the temple, though. Might just be paranoid.”

Nott shook her head. “I’m always paranoid.” She gave Beau a look of understanding.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t feel quite as energetic, knowing that where you both are from is under siege. It may only add a day or two, at most. I would be much appreciated.”

Jester leaned forward to point at the map. “What if we went to the temple and then headed back? Plus, we haven’t found out about vandran.”

“No dilly-dallying,” Molly added. “We just go and make sure that everything’s okay.” He got a nod from Jester. “And couldn’t Vandran be anywhere?”

“He could be anywhere,” Fjord sighed. “I want to do this because we’re here. We can worry about him later. It’s a wide, wide world. I have a feeling it’d take a long while to figure out where he’s hiding.”

“So we find the temple, go back to Nicodranas, and then head to Felderwin?” Beau did her best not to look at Rowan, who perked up at the name. She deflected, saying, “Yaknow, so Jester can see her mom again. We did leave really quickly last time.”

“We could. We could let your mom know we’re okay.” He looked up, caught Beau’s expression and added in a hurried voice, “We might have to go back through Port Damali, actually. Nicodranas is a little hot for us.” Fjord pointed at the map. It wasn’t that far away, but further north. 

Flicking her gaze between the captain and the first mate, Jester said, “I mean, I can just message her. I’ve _been_ messaging her.”

“We’ll… maybe we’ll think about it while we’re heading back. We don’t want to go around the southern tip—” his finger drew everyone’s eyes to that point, “That’s where the troops are heading. I feel like danger might be that way. It might be best to go the way we came.” When the group nodded, he added, “So, some supplies? Maybe something to buff us up a bit?”

“Some bees,” Jester nodded.

“I think some bees would suit you. You can talk to them.” Caduceus nodded, looking at Rowan’s expression. “The owner here keeps her own bees to make mead. You can say hello to them.”

Jester giggled, “Hello, bees!” throwing her arms wide. “I just really want to see them. I really want to talk to them.”

“Yasha,” Fjord asks, looking at her. His tone is soft, his words slower. Like he’s choosing them carefully. “Is there anything you need, now that we’re in port?” He looked around the group, at the other tense expressions. “Is there anything you’ve been craving now that we’re at sea?”

“No, no.” She shook her head. It looked like she was going to go quiet, but she leaned forward. “I… we… I just—” she sighed, looking to Rowan. “You guys were gone for a really long time. You were gone for six days.”

“We didn’t mean to be, Yasha,” Jester blurted out.

“We didn’t have any idea that that was going to happen,” Fjord agreed. 

Beau looked crestfallen. “Yeah. We— yeah.” She looked to Rowan, expression apologetic.

“We looked for you guys everywhere in that room. I was just… worried is all. And… well.” She glanced from Rowan’s turquoise eyes to Beau’s blue ones. They nodded. “Rowan was very… emotional.”

“I’d be mad at us, too,” the monk said, slinging an arm around the kid’s shoulders.

”Thank you, both, for looking everywhere in that room. That’s really nice.” Caduceus looked down at the kid, his smile as pleasant as ever. 

“I just turned around, and then you were all gone.” She sighed, looking at her hands. “And then the kid wouldn’t let go of the ball. We had to, uh, pry it out of their hands.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ruffled Rowan’s hair with a huge, furry hand. “It was crazy in there. I’m actually kind of glad you didn’t get sucked in, little one. It would’ve… it definitely could’ve killed you. It almost killed Caleb.”

Nott looked between the pair. “Did you have funerals for all of us? Must have taken a lot of time. Like one a day. Or more than one a day. You’d have almost enough time. Was mine nice? I guess not; you were on the ocean. Did you two say anything?”

Rowan spluttered a bit. Yasha turned a bit pink, her cheeks coloring. “I did say some things that I probably would not share with you, Nott.”

“You cursed at my funeral?”

“We didn’t have a funeral for you.”

“Everybody got a funeral but me??”

The barbarian threw her hands into the air. “Nobody had a funeral!” 

“Nobody got a funeral???”

“I didn’t know if you were actually gone or not!” Yasha blurted out. She kept going, words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t know if you were alive or not! I was— I was holding onto maybe that you’d just disappeared and you just didn’t want to stay with me anymore! Like maybe you didn’t want me to be a part of the group. And you keep talking about having the kid stay in Nicodranas.” Before Jester could blurt in, she held a hand up. “No— I don’t mean it like that. I’m not saying, you know, ‘woe, poor me,’ or something, but—” She sighed. 

Rowan put their hand in the middle of the table, drawing everyone’s attention. They signed slowly, so everyone could understand. _I was really angry._ The group didn’t talk, waiting. Rowan took a deep breath, schooling their fingers into the right shapes. _I thought you’d left ‘cause you liked Twiggy more than me. You wanted Twiggy to be part of the Nein more than me. And that I was keeping you back, or making it harder. I thought— maybe it’d be better if I wasn’t there._

“It’s hard, kiddo.” Molly reached over and patted their elbow. “We want you to stay with us so long as you want to stay with us. Right?” The group nodded, a few faces looking sheepish. Fjord looked at Rowan, his yellow eyes unsure. Nott’s yellow eyes looked wary. “But we also do some really, really dangerous stuff, and we don’t want to put you in too much peril.” 

“You… didn’t do so well in Darktow,” Yasha agreed.

_I’m sorry._

“It’s just— we almost died, ya know? And then we really would have been dead and then we wouldn’t have come back. And if you were there, you would’ve died too. And then… then what?” Jester sighed, looking at the kid. 

“If you’d died,” Yasha said, quiet, “We never would’ve known.” After a moment’s pause, she asked, “Did you… fight something?”

“There was a big, blue dragon.” Molly said, exciting Jester.

“Eh.”

“Like, what? No bigs? No sweat?” Fjord guffawed. 

Beau smirked. “Oh, a Tuesday?”

“Are you going to show us the notches on your upper delt,” Fjord asked, smirking, “For all the ones that you…”

“Well I can.” Yasha said. “But I ran out of notches on my belt.”

Mollymauk started howling with laughter. It took the others a few moments to realize that Yasha was only joking. It took a few more moments for the group to quiet down. Other patrons turned to look at what was going on with the colorful group. Rowan kept their head down, hoping none of these sailors noticed that they weren’t a halfling or a gnome or something. Nope. Not a ten-year-old. 

“But… I’m glad you guys are safe. For whatever the fuck it’s worth.” Rowan leaned against Yasha’s arms. 

The firbolg’s ears twitched, a glimmer in his eyes. Then he said, “It’s worth a lot, and we’ll probably be a little more careful about poking things separately. And letting you know if we’re going on ahead. No blame going around.”

“Yeah, like—” Beau sighed, pushing her hair off her temple. “It reminded me what we were getting into. That any of us could’ve been her, you know? And think, if that was Avantika… what’d happen to Caduceus? Or Caleb? Or you?”

Caduceus shuddered. “We’ll keep you safe. Sometimes means you’ll come with us. But sometimes it’s safer for you to stay behind. And trust me, I know what it’s like to be left behind. But we’re trying our best. It depends. We’re playing it by ear.”

“Is that OK? Can we trust you to watch our backs, and we’ll watch yours?” Rowan looked over at Nott, whose eyes seemed determined. They nodded. She nodded back at them. “You’ll be watching our six, then.”

“When we leave you behind, you can be responsible for Sprinkle!” She pulled the weasel from her cloak hood. The small, furry creature squeaked and hissed at the group. “OK?” 

“I… don’t think that’s wise.” Molly looked at the little thing, watching as it bit Jester’s finger.

“Yeah, he’s kinda angry.” She sighed. “See, if we’d gotten that blink dog you could’ve had a pet!”

Ignoring that, Rowan asked, _Where’s caleb?_

The monk shrugged. “He’s on the boat.” When that didn’t seem to appease the kid, she added, “Looking at books.” Oh, that made more sense. 

“We were all kind of thrown by what happened.” Beau said. She looked over at them. “But I guess we’ve got our priorities. Finish supplying the Ball Eater, go figure out Fjord’s creepy eye, and find out what’s going down in Felderwin. Alright team,” she chuckled, “Break!”

* * *

The Nein, Orly, and the rest of the crew left over from the Mistake, sailed to Fjord’s location. It was just a couple day’s journey further along the archipelago. And it would've been quiet and calm, had something not dragged them from their complacency.

A storm descended upon them, one that smelled of ozone and heavy rains. As she was wont to do, Yasha stood on the deck of the Ball Eater to watch the way the clouds played against the blackened horizon.

Lightning lit up the undersides of the storm clouds. Rowan watched, jumping at the peals of thunder that washed over them harder than the ocean waves ever had. But they knew they were protected, sheltered in the gap between Yasha and the railing. 

"The Storm Lord is watching," Yasha said, absent-minded in her appraisal. "He watches us through the storms. To make sure we survive." 

_Why?_ Rowan asked, their fingers chilled by the cold rains. 

"It is his way." Yasha shrugged. "I do not think we can question the will of gods."

"I would disagree," Molly said, waltzing onto deck with his cloak pulled tight against his horns. "I swear, kiddo, if you mess up your hair I will drag you to your room and fix it. Aggressively." He smirked. "Maybe we should. The lightning’s getting closer.”

“You count the seconds,” Yasha said, watching as another streak of lightning arced across the sky. “For every 5 seconds, it’s a mile away.”

“And that last one,” Molly remarked as the thunder pushed over them, “Was but a mile away. Batten down the hatches?” He asked the kid, looking at their soaking wet hair. “You can dry the both of us off and we can enjoy some of Caduceus’s hot tea.”

 _I’d like that,_ they signed before Yasha stepped away from the railing. Looking back at her retreating form, they watched as an arc of lightning streaked across the sky and hit the deck. It didn’t burst the entire place into flames— it would’ve, had it been normal lightning. Instead, it left blackened gouges on the mainmast.

And formed into a ball of plasma, energy arcing and coursing around it. Drawing her greatsword from its sheath on her back, Yasha stepped forward. 

The combat was quick, decisive, and terrifying. Tearing at the thing with wild abandon, Yasha roared and screamed as the Magician’s Judge sliced through the orb. Yet it seemed not to do damage. It struck her, countless times, the electrocutions shrugged off by her anger and frustration. It was her job, her job to protect the Nein. And if she could not protect them from the Storm Lord’s messengers, what could she protect them from?

It was over, faster than Rowan wanted. They felt their feet carry them to the railing of the aftcastle, watching as the fray happened below them. Molly’s hands gripped the railing beside them, whitening his knuckles under his lavender skin. “You’ve got this,” he intoned, almost a prayer. “You can do this. Fight.” From his lips the same words dripped, rain and wind blurring the whispers into almost incomprehensible sounds. 

Then it was gone. It disappeared with a flash akin to its creation. Yasha pitched forwards, catching herself on her blade as she drove it into the deck of the ship. Unthinking, instinctual, Molly flung himself from the railing and onto the floor below, hands out and ready to appease.

Yasha did not go to sleep with Molly and Rowan that night. She fell asleep on the deck of the ship, watching as the storm made just for her disappeared across the horizon, breaking into tinier and tinier clouds until it was just a piece of stretched out wool above their heads. 

The next morning, the group sat down with Rowan, explaining what was going to happen. 

They met on the deck of the Ball Eater, looking out at sunny and clear skies. Caduceus brought with him some special fruits he'd been saving for an occasion. "This is as good an event," he decided, setting down the platter of cut fruits, "for something out of the ordinary."

He handed a piece of fruit to Rowan, who took it and, carefully and a bit anxiously, bit into it. It's golden flesh was juicy and soft. It's nectar was sweeter and a bit thick than the juice of, say, pears. 

"It's a mango," Fjord informed them as he took a piece. "A tropical delicacy."

The group lapsed into quiet for a moment, everyone staring out at different points on the sea. "We'll be getting close to the point," Caleb reminded the group. Eyes turned to look at him. "Now is as good a time as any."

“Right." Mollymauk coughed into his fist and rolled his shoulders. "So, I know it’s not fun, but we need you to stay up here. If we accidentally… I don’t know…” Molly trailed off, hands whirling in the air as though trying to catch his own thoughts. 

“Resurrect an angry, betrayer god from the Calamity?” Beau offered, smirking. 

“Yes, that. So just in case that goes down, we need you up here.”

“Plus,” Fjord added, sheepish, “Water Breathing only works on eight people.” A beat later, he saw Caleb’s head pop up. But the captain shot him a look that Rowan didn’t notice. Nor did they suspect it to be a lie. Which it was. Technically, it stretched to10 people. "And we kind of need Yasha to beat the shit out of things. Or Caduceus.”

“‘Cause I’m not healing everyone,” Jester pouted. “It’s bo-oring.” 

Rowan nodded. Though they'd been appeased somewhat by the conversation a few days ago, they had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It wasn't the first time Rowan was to stay on deck. In fact, the number of times was starting to grow more and more with each passing day. 

And it’s not like they had a whole lot of a choice. 

In pairs, the Nein descended into the dark waters, using a cannonball to weigh them down quickly so as not to waste daylight. The kid leaned over the railing, watching the bubbles sink into the shifting depths. At some point— exactly where they did not know— the bubbles ceased. From there, they raised their gaze to the waters around them. 

There were three islands around the dive spot. The land masses formed a loose triangle surrounding the calm waters in the middle. Fjord’s map said these islands were called the Gravid Archipelago. Lots of things in this area of the map were called archipelagos. He’d told them it was a bunch of islands, all crammed together. 

Orly was keeping watch on the forecastle, standing at the very prow of the ship. For their part in scouting the area, Rowan walked circles around the ship's deck. 

Was it their spells, or lack thereof, that made the Nein worry so much? They weren't a wizard, so none of the others could train them. Magic wasn't something gifted to them or gained through study. Lightning and thunder just came to them easily. 

In the back of their mind, they wondered if they were connected to the Storm Lord, too.

Amelie had said something, a couple years back when they'd secured a hiding spot in the Cyrengreen Forest, about a storm. Like a great, unmoving cloud of thunder and rain and lightning and winds had, so the stories said, hung around that area for a great while. From her own research it was just a normal storm front, buffeted into the center of the lowlands by cold, mountainous winds. 

They flexed their fingers and called a Shocking Grasp to their palm. Magic had always seemed inherent, just like the freckles on their cheeks or the hair on their head. 

A cold, reptilian hand found their shoulder. "Maybe don't… ah… go about sparking up on deck," Orly reminded them. "Spyglasses are expensive…" He trailed off, gesturing with his own, "but many folk have them."

They gave him a thumbs up and let the electricity dissipate into the air. 

"I meant to ask," he muttered, "but are you by chance one of those spell slingers that, perhaps, control the air or skies? Do you have power over the winds?" 

Rowan shrugged. Keeping it low, they cast a quick, _Maybe when I'm stronger?_ to the tortle. 

"Ah, it was worth a shot. I just…" he shrugged. "You seem keen on elements is all."

They shrugged back. _I don't know… either._

"Maybe it'd be a good thing to learn," he suggested, before craning his neck around. "In the meantime," the tortle added, "Mind if I show you how to gauge distance with this?" 

Rowan nodded their head, excitement lighting up their expression. They had to step on their tiptoes to see the markings on the side of the spyglass, indicating how far away something was. He showed them how to hold it, how to flicker the focus from short to long distances. How to use closer objects to measure further ones. "And there's only so far ya can see," he explained, gesturing with a long claw at the horizon, "before the world starts to curve away."

The kid nodded, using the spyglass to scan the islands. Each was a beautiful jewel of a place, full of life and teeming with plants. They wanted to go and explore them. What would the problem be, save for lamia and snakes and possible cultists to Uk'otoa? That didn't seem like that much danger. 

"Can I see that for a moment, little 'un?" Squinting, he trained his spyglass not to a distant island, but to the waters right beside it. Grunting, he handed it back. "Look at the shadows in the water." They did as he instructed. "Now look to the trees. See how the shapes different?" They did see the difference. 

"Might have some company."

And they did have company. 

The ship did not descend upon the Ball Eater until the Nein had made their way back up. Tired and a bit worse for wear, they dragged their sopping wet forms onto the deck before Orly mentioned the spying ship to Fjord. 

It turned into a chase, growing tense by the minute until Caduceus pushed the entire boat onto its side. Then the mounting tension released with a collective sigh of relief and a building chuckle. 

Safety can sometimes be surprising. 

And it was almost surprising, from that point onwards, how uneventful the rest of the sailing felt. As the group made their way back to Nicodranas, Caleb tried to teach them a bit of magic, in his own way. He'd have them watch his magic and copy his movements. 

Both knew this didn't work. Initially, long ago, Caleb must've been excited to teach Rowan his spells. Much in the same way, Rowan thought, that he felt pride when Nott cast a spell of her own. There was hope, in some desperate piece of him, that wanted to pass on his knowledge. So much so, in fact, that Rowan could tell. It didn't work, though.

But they humored him. 

And they humored the others, too. When Jester showed them how she draws. When Caduceus showed them how to cook a stew when Nott, for all her busy obsession with being the Powder Monkey, would pull them aside and show them things. 

Not magic, no, but little things they could learn. How to sew a button on their poor, besten-up tunic. How to stitch a small flower over the hole in their sleeve. How to fit a few gold into their shoes so it won't be stolen. How to listen to footsteps and guess how many people were behind a closed door. And most importantly if all, she taught them how to pick a lock. 

Or, she tried. 

Rowan was not dextrous. Though they were quick on their feet all delicacy flew out the window when the goblin handed them the essential, metal instruments. She'd locked their room, and had them try for fifteen minutes to open it. 

And while she'd started out brash in her critique, her words softened. And stopped. When she saw how frustrated they were— how pinched their lips were and how tight their brow was drawn— she had them stop. 

"Hey. You don't have to get this perfect."

_But you're teaching me how to do it right._

"Yeah…" she admitted. Sighing to herself, she added, "It's more for the fun of sharing compared. Not about you getting it right."

Oh. 

They... hadn't considered that. Looking up at Nott, they gave her a smile. Things made a bit more sense now. Caduceus not caring whether or not they burned the onions. Beau wanting to show them how to do a push up despite their weak ass arms. Caleb’s insistance on showing them magic that they couldn’t possibly copy. 

_When we get back to Nicodranas,_ Rowan signed, working their fingers carefully, _Could you teach me how to pick the Lavish Chateau’s locks?_

“Of course I can,” she said, ruffling their hair. “But this lock’s easier. It’ll be a good starting point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working to shift from blow-by-blow to highlights, and hopefully this chapter doesn't throw anyone for a loop. And if you notice any continuity snaffus, PLEASE let me know. I'm working to integrate some newer ideas (changing Rowan back to the original sorcerer they were in the first drafts, mixing two characters together to simplify things, etc). So if there are any questions in your mind, drop by and tell me what went wrong! :) I'd be very appreciative. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left a comment! It makes my day, seeing them. Please feel free to pop on by and let me know any scenes you'd like to see. I have a huge backlog I'm almost arriving at, where we'll see more of Rowan's story, and more of the fun character-focused scenes that I'd originally written back in November of 2019. So other than edits, I'll hopefully get more story scenes out soon!


	18. Two Truths and A Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau didn't lie, not quite. Nor did any other of the Nein. But things, even truths, can be misheard.
> 
> Back on solid land, the Nein finish a few errands and have a conversation with Marion. They hadn't intended for Rowan to hear it-- they'd put them to bed before they held the meeting-- but accidents can, and did, happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Two chapters (well, a chapter and a half) all in a day!
> 
> We're aaaalmost to the stuff I've written back in the day. One more chapter of new content, and then it's just editing for continuity and posting some good stuff I've already drafted.
> 
> (And as always, if you see errors in names or spellings or something that seems off, please drop a comment! I don't have a beta-reader, but am 100% going back and trying to smooth out any issues that I come across. Extra sets of eyes are more than welcomed. :) )

“I promise you,” Beau told Rowan as they made landfall back in Nicodranas, “that you won’t be left behind.” 

Beau’s hair was brushed down, flowing over her shoulders as though her undercut didn’t exist. It made her look so unlike herself without much effort. She crouched down on the deck of the ship next to the kid, arms resting on her knees. When the kid didn’t look at her, she put her hand on their chin. Gentle, so gentle to draw a couple of tears, she turned their face towards her own. “I’m not lying. I promise.”

 _But you guys talked to Marion…_

“About the possibility.” She shook her head, letting their chin go. “But I think we… I don’t think we’re planning on leaving you anymore. Besides,” Beau added as she shrugged, punching them on the shoulder with perhaps one percent of her full power, “Those lightning spells you showed us before are pretty clutch.”

They gave her a warm smile. They’d have to trust her. They’d leave Nicodranas and go on to Felderwin. The thought of returning to the Empire, even after so long, made their stomach feel hollow. But if the Nein traveled with the cart, they’d be safe under its enchantment.

The Ball Eater pulled up to the dock, the crew making ready for landfall as figures approached the pair. One— perhaps Fjord— had a bald head with reddish hair. Caduceus, in his shaggy redhead disguise, sidled up beside the captain. And a human-looking Jester with black hair flounced up to Rowan, putting her hands on their head. A pink, fairy-looking creature snuck up next to Rowan. Compared to all of the magical changes, Molly walking up with a different, more subdued outfit was both normal and very, very odd. At Rowan’s confusion he shrugged, golden jewelry on his horns jingling. “I don’t exactly have magic to change my look, little one.”

“But he can wear my shirts!” Jester said, giggling. “Specially made for horns and all.”

“Heard you talking about the kid’s magic. You’re quite good with thunder and such. Are we sure your family didn’t follow Kord, little one?” Caduceus asked, looking at the approaching dock. “I would not be surprised if they did.”

“Kord is not legal in the Empire,” Caleb pointed out. Or it sounded like Caleb— he was shorter and brown-haired. “But I would not be that surprised.”

Yasha said, “It would be something.” She smiled at their look. She was disguised, if just a bit made up.

 _Ameile… my old teacher told me there was a big summer storm when I was born,_ they signed, holding their hands up for the group to see. _Just coincidence._

“You could be touched by him anyways,” Molly agreed. “Even if you family weren’t devout followers. Touched by the gods is one thing; praying to them is another.”

“But perhaps,” Nott said, scratching a nail across the railing, “don’t mention it when we’ve crossed the Wuyun Gates, okay? Just in case they, well— they’re not really understanding.” She shrugged.

“Are you nervous to get home?” Caleb asked, taking a knee. “We could go there this evening.”

“But we should let Jester talk to her mother,” Nott said.

“And gather some supplies for our journey.” Fjord nodded, thinking back. “We’ve got to restock the cart, and make sure it’s in working order. Plus…” He ruffled the longer hairs at the back of his neck. “We’ve not had much of a rest since we got aboard the Mistake. Could behoove us to take a day or two’s rest.”

“But wouldn’t that put us behind the Kryn?” asked Beau, who stood up and glared at the approaching Wharfmaster. “Jester, you got the documents?”

“Yeah, forged them up _real_ good,” she said, holding them out. “Here you are, Captain Tusktooth.”

“And here you are, then, Orly.” He turned and deposited the papers in the tortle’s grasp. “We trust you to… well, to take care of the ship in our absence.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” He saluted the half-orc and made his way down the gang plank. “Well, you all be safe. Send me a message if’n you’ve got some of that fancy magic word stuff, right.” At Jester’s assertion that she’d contact him if need be, he turned and began to discuss docking times and costs with the Wharfmaster. 

“Be well, Orly,” Fjord said as he descended the gang plank and gave the tortle a salute. “Carry on.”

“Keep your hood up,” Nott told Rowan, pulling the hood on their cloak over their head. It was hot, what with the early afternoon sun beading down on them. But the kid complied, pulling the hood of their cloak over their head. It wasn’t a disguise— how they wished they could. Using magic to disappear into a new appearance would’ve been so useful. Yet every time Caleb or Caducues or Fjord or Jester tried to teach them how to do it, it didn’t seem to click. Of course, their magics came from different sources. But their explanations had held a grain of consistency to them. 

Maybe one of these days, they’d get it. In the meantime, they were keeping a close eye on the zhelezo. Maybe they’d find a magic cloak and convince one of the Nein to buy it for them. Or a mask like the one Nott used to use. But a full-faced one. Or maybe one with magic. 

“If we’re staying in town for a few days,” Caduceus mentioned, pulling out the broken sword hilt from his pack, “I’d like to see about getting this fixed. As a token of appreciation for Mr. Fjord, for doing such a good job taking care of himself on his quest.” Looking at the transformed warlock, he added, “And not getting sidelined by bad thoughts.”

“I don’t know of any smiths around here,” Fjord admitted, pushing his hair from his face. “Jester?” She shook her head. “Alright, we’ll add it to the to-do list.” 

“I’d also like to look for a place with writing materials,” Caleb said, putting a hand up as though answering a question during a lecture. “Paper and ink and that sort of thing?”

“Oh, yeah! My mom was big on books.” Ignoring Molly’s slight chuckle, she continued, “But the books were usually brought to me, so I don’t know of any places.” 

The group split up. Caducues, along with Beau and Fjord and Yasha, headed off to the blacksmith’s. While they left, chatting about the broken blade and it’s potential, Rowan felt a hand on their shoulder. “I was also thinking,” Caleb added as the booky group started on their own meandering journey, “That we could buy you some things? Primers and readers. I remember them from my youth.”

“Primers? Readers?” Molly asked, shouldering into the quiet conversation. “The fuck are those?”

“Primers are, like, books for kids to learn how to write and other stuff. Mathematics and geography and things.”

“The basics,” Nott agreed.”

“ _Ja_ , and readers are books for children to read. They have levels that get more complex as the child learns and grows older.”

“So… what level would the little one be at?” Molly looked down at them, a hand resting on their shoulder. “They’re not at a basic level. Plus, they’ve picked up a good deal of Infernal words! And some Zemnian, I’m sure.” He smiled at Caleb, who turned a bit pink in the ears. 

The four adults looked at Rowan, who held up two hands. _I am ten… or eleven._ They shrugged. It’d been a long time since they’d read anything. The Nein’s books weren’t exactly something kids should read. Either thick texts Caleb carried all about history and magical theory… or saucy romances not suitable for a prepubescent child. 

“So you’d be in primary school, if your town had one.” Nott looked over at them. “Have you ever been to school?” They nodded. “What was it like?”

 _Our village was small, so we’d go during the winter and summer. In the spring we’d help plant the fields, and in the autumn we’d help harvest. So it was either hot or cold._ They looked up at the others. _I learned with my—_ Their fingers stuttered to a stop. _With my older brother._

They tried not to look up at the others. 

“Well, we’ll see when we get there!” chirruped Jester. She skipped along, looking around corners to check other streets. Nott mentioned seeing the same shops once or twice, an hour or so into their journey. She shrugged this off, admitting that she’d only seen the store through her window back at the Lavish Chateau. “So, like, I haven’t been there before, but I know kinda where it is.” 

“Did you get out? Did your mother take you around, or did you have a babysitter?” Caleb looked a bit nonplussed at the idea. Of Jester, energetic and happy as she is, sitting like a fairytale princess in her high room of the Chateau her whole life. Trapped.

“No, no, no! My mom was there, but we didn’t, you know, go places. Oh!” She craned her neck, looking over Caleb’s shoulder. “Here it is!”

The bookshop she indicated was called Front to Back, its storefront windows filled with shelves of books. Some bound in leather, others held together with paper and glue. 

“Before we go in,” Caleb pushed, “you never went out? Or just rarely?”

“I did go out, sometimes. I got to go on errands and stuff, you know.” At the group’s skeptical looks, she groaned. “The Traveler is like, really cool. He was there for me.” When Molly tried to add something, she piped up, “And Bluud! The minotaur. I’d hang out with him sometimes.”

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Molly asked, “Did you go outside to play?” When she answered with a shake of her head, the group went quiet.

Rowan put their hand on Jester’s and guided her inside the shop. Inside, the quintet was greeted with a calico cat that gazed sleepily at them before turning around and walking inside. Molly and Nott set about looking for books Rowan would enjoy as Jester popped back outside to perform a bit of mischief. Caleb bought out the entire supply of paper— huge piles of gold worth of it— before adding on a couple readers and primers for Rowan. “And a journal, maybe?” He looked down at them, who nodded. 

Apprehensive, they signed, _Can I have a sketchbook, too? Like Jester’s?_

“A journal without lines, then?” Caleb amended, looking to the happy shopkeeper.

“With how much you are purchasing,” the keeper beamed, “I’ll throw in some chalk and a slate for the child.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Molly said, smiling back. “I’m also going to purchase this book for me.”

“Wait, you can read?” Nott asked, glaring up at him.

“Of course! Plus, I’m going to give this to Jester to read aloud on our journey.” At Nott’s aghast expression, he added, “I’ll cover up the kid’s ears so they don’t hear the saucy bits; don’t get your knickers in a knot.”

Lighter on the gold front, but weighed down with papers and books and writing utensils, the five of them left to set off back to the Chateau to call on The Ruby of the Sea. 

* * *

“Okay, so.” Molly turned to Marion, who looked at the eight of them with a warm smile. “We… need to talk. Where… where the kid can’t hear.”

“Ah. About what you asked me before.”

“Yes, that.” She turned and led them to her chambers, where she sat one of her couches. “I do not have many contacts, but I was able to reach out. None of the families I found were… able to take the little one in. Not knowing a name— while that’s not a terrible damper on our own love for them— did not make for comforting information. In addition to their status as a run away… very few reputable people would be willing to take them. And none of the ones I know can also understand Signed Common. 

“I would be more than happy to take care of them—” she began before Molly put his hand up.

“I… Guys, we cannot leave Rowan with Marion,” Molly decided as the adults converged in one room. “Though we know you’d love them, and learn Signed Common to speak with them… I’m sorry. I won’t be able to live with that.” He looked at Jester. “It’s… I don’t think they’d be happy in the Chateau on their own.”

“They could have Sprinkle.” She pouted, holding the weasel out. He didn’t seem happy to be manhandled. “Okay, well maybe not.” 

“The kid’s not you, Jester,” Beau said. Clearing her throat, she continued, “She doesn’t have the Traveler to keep them company. And, uh,” she looked around to the others, “I think if we left them at all, they’d just run away again.”

“And beyond that,” Molly said, looking a bit at Beau. “If they’re a run away, what happens if they run away again?” He looked back at Marion, at the hardened expression she wore. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’d be able to run after them.”

“You… are correct in that assessment.” She looked at Jester, who gave her mother a teary smile. “I am sorry I could not uphold my end of things.”

“You looked,” Nott said, “That’s all we asked for.” 

“And I’m against taking them to an orphanage,” Fjord added. He picked at his teeth. The group looked to him as he sighed and grumbled, “I doubt they’d have good experiences.” 

“But we can’t just keep them with us,” Yasha muttered. “Not if we go after the Kryn who attacked Felderwin.”

“Could take us out of the Empire,” Beau agreed, crossing her arms and leaning back. “It’s not like humans are welcome there. Caleb and I would be in danger. And the kid? They’d be an easy target.”

“Jester,” Fjord asked, looking over at her, “Could we send a message to Bryce? If we’re passing through Alfield,” he explained, pulling out the map, “Then we could see if they know of anyone to take the kiddo in.” 

“They’d probably know, they’re well-known in town, right?” Nott nodded. “I like this idea.”

Coughing a bit, Caduceus pulled their attention to him. “They’ve mentioned before— not sure if you’re remembering or if you’ve not been told— the little one isn’t comfortable being in the Empire.” 

“You’re right,” Beau pointed at him. “Said something to me about being followed? Looked for?”

“It is just their family, I assume,” Caleb said. “Why else would they be wary of the Crownsguard? Or the Zholezo.” He looked up at Molly and Caduceus. “You both must’ve noticed— they try and hide behind us when there are guards or law keepers near.”

“So… Bryce could be a terrible idea.”

“They were very hesitant when we went to that jail to see your old friend,” Caduceus pointed out. 

Mollymauk sighed. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“Oh!” Jester looked at Beau. “There’s a lot of Cobalt Souls everywhere, even outside of the Empire, right?”

“Yeah, there are some in Emon and on Taldorei and all,” she agreed, nodding. At Jester’s excited look, it clicked together. “I’m… not sure it’d be a good idea to send them there.”

“You didn’t have a good experience with them,” Yasha said. Beau nodded, eyes downcast. “We cannot guarantee that your teacher would be their teacher?”

“If we’re talking about that old cracker, I wouldn’t wish it on them.” She shook her head. “And my, uh, my influence over the Soul is basically nill? So even if I were the one to introduce them, I’d probably be only able to request a teacher. Plus,” she said, leaning back to look at the ceiling, “I don’t know what kind of people they are in the Nicodranas branch. I’ve only got experience with the Zadash group, really.”

“And we don’t have a circus to let them run away to,” Molly grumbled. The Empire kids chuckled, Nott adding in her squeaky laugh. “So I guess they’re just going to have to stay with our circus?” He looked around, the Nein nodding and assenting.

“And if we find the Kryn and have to encroach on Xhorhasian territory?” Fjord looked at the group. Seeing as how they tended to jump into dangerous journeys without a second’s thought, it was quite the possibility. Their actions may’ve been surprising for a 

Beau looked at Caleb, nodding. “We’ll get to that when we get to it.”

“It’ll be a problem for you both,” Yasha agreed. “Humans are not welcome in most parts.” She gestured to herself, adding, “I am not welcomed in those places, either.”

“Even though you were born and raised in Xhorhas?” Molly sighed, leaning against her. “That’s rough.” She nodded, patting his hair. “Maybe… you guys ever heard them mention Ameile?” A few nods. He continued, “I think they mentioned Ameile was their old magic teacher? Maybe… maybe if we can find her, come into contact with her, we can figure out where she is and take them there? It’d be the safest option.”

“Someone they already trust,” Nott agreed.

“So long as this Ameile was not involved in their, ah…” Caleb indicated his neck. He paused. “They also have not explained how they survived for three years on their own, unable to speak.”

Nott caught his look. “We had a hard enough time, and we’re adults. 

“ _Ja_. They have not mentioned much about that.”

“Nor have many of us,” Caduceus pointed out. “They are still learning who it is okay to trust. They may have decided some of us are trustworthy, and others are not. It may be the reason why they have not told us their life’s story.” He chuckled. “Most of us are still there. I do not know anyone’s entire backstory.”

“‘Cept for me,” Molly said, waving his hand in the air.

“Yes, but your hedonistic lifestyle of two years isn’t something that hurts you,” he pointed out. Molly froze, his tail flicking. “Or perhaps there were parts that did that you have omitted. It is not a lie. But none of us speak in full truths. It is not in our natures.”

“Nor would it be the child’s,” Caleb nodded. “I… also think it is best we find this Ameile. Maybe on our way there, we could ask them about her?”

“Be gentle,” the firbolg added.

Marion nodded. “If they feel you are planning to give them up, they may run before you have the chance to explain yourself.”

“We can be gentle,” Beau grumbled.

“The only ones here who can be gentle are Yasha and Deuces.” Molly prodded her arm. “But you’ve been getting there. I saw you talking to them this morning. Like a big sister, you are.” She chuckled, mussing up his hair as best she could from the other side of Yasha. The barbarian gave them a look, and when it seemed like the two would not stop, she stood up and crossed the room so as not to be in the middle of it. “Oh. They also mentioned going to school with their older brother. Maybe that’s another in?”

“If this older brother is much older, he could be on his own. Possibly outside of the empire,” Fjord said, weighing the options. “Could be another idea.”

“So we figure out who this Ameile lady is,” Jester said, moving over to snuggle with her mama, “and if that doesn’t work, their brother or someone else who could take them in.”

“It’s a good starting plan,” the Ruby agreed, petting Jester’s hair. “It would be best if they were not in danger like you all are. They aren’t prepared for these kinds of battles you get into. It sounds like the best option, to find somewhere for them to live while you all adventure.”

“Oh!” Jester pushed herself up to sit straight. “Speaking of adventures… Did we tell you about the ship Deuces pushed over? It was _super_ cool.”

With that, the conversation devolved into chat about their last voyage, recounting the Ruby with the tales of diving below the waters, of sailing with the crews, and of Darktow. 

* * *

Rowan pushed themselves from the opposite side of the door, their legs wobbly. They’d awoken to an empty room, the Nein’s packs gone. In a rush of fear, they’d slunk down the hall.

But they’d paused when the voices of the Nein, mainly that of Beau and Molly fighting like siblings, gave them pause. They hadn’t heard their name— the half they’d entrusted it with had done a solid job of not using it aloud in public. But they’d heard enough to know the conversation was about them. 

Beau had lied. They _would_ be left behind, just not in a couple days’ time. They’d go with the Nein until Ameile or their family could be found. 

The simultaneous thought of seeing Ameile again— a whirling happiness— was crushed by the fear of their parents. Of the danger being with them would prove. Ameile had told them, clear as the gray of her eyes, that if they stayed in one place for too long, the Crownsguard would find them. That staying with someone in the Empire would endanger those people. And they knew— it wasn’t fair to ask for someone’s help and make them suffer for it. That couldn’t be right. 

But they didn’t know if Ameile was still _alive_ let alone able to care for them. She’d ran off into the Cyrengreen Forest after leaving them to go to Zadash on their own. It’d been months since she’d last seen them. 

The ribbon Beau had given them— a punny present from a local shop keeper, hung around the braid Molly had woven into their hair before bed. These people, who gave them books and taught them so much, were planning to drop them at their earliest convenience. 

Well. 

They may not give the Nein that chance. Grabbing the ribbon, they pulled it from their hair. Rough fingers yanked the braid undone as they stalked back to the room. They did not see that, just after they slammed their door, Caduceus had opened the door to Marion’s room to inspect the hallway. He frowned, and closed the door to rejoin the conversation.

The kid was too busy pushing all their items into their pack. Their old pack was stuffed with all their own items. Not Jester’s, not Caleb’s, not Nott’s, not Beau’s, not Molly’s. Their things. The box of components Ameile had given them before sending them away. Their old tunic. Their old boots. _Their_ things. They didn’t want those hollow lies.

Ameile had a reason. It was safer for her to leave Rowan. She was the one they’d originally been after, the Crownsguard, but because they’d been seen together, she didn’t want to put Rowan into more danger. She knew this. Rowan knew this. It was the same reason they couldn’t stay with a family in the Empire. 

And if the Nein were planning to do that to some unwitting family, they weren’t going to have it. They’d rip the scab off before someone else could. 

With that, they slipped down the hallway, not pausing once at the door to hear if the conversation had changed. They did look back as they took a side exit Jester had shown them last time they were there, just to make sure nobody noticed they were leaving.

None of the Nein’s eyes were on them. Drawing their hood up over their hair, they pushed a few tears from their cheeks and sniffed. With that, they pushed into the dark, into the salty air of Nicodranas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me.


	19. New Choices are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan has a quick conversation with Yussa, who both does and does not know how to talk to ten-year-olds. It's been two hundred years since he's been one, so they cut him some slack.

Beau was _pissed_ \-- no. Beyond pissed; she was furious. It was well passed the wee hours of the morning when they should all be asleep. They’d chatted with Marion for an hour or two more, discussing their adventures as pirates at sea. When they’d finally bid her good night, it had taken a while for Yasha to notice Rowan was missing. Not because she was incapable of it, but because the bedsheets were hiked up like someone was sleeping under it.

And since she didn’t sleep in the bed, but on the floor, it was Mollymauk who flopped onto the bed and realized it was empty.

That was hours ago. Caleb said it was almost three in the morning. They’d spent the time following Jester’s childhood memories of hiding nooks and little crevices where the kid— small as they were— would fit. Plus, they’d checked the grounds and the roofs, since Jester admitted to telling Rowan about them the first time they’d all come to the Chateau. 

Striding about Marion’s room with her hands firmly balled into fists at her side, Beau kept an eye on Jester’s scrying. The kid was lucky— Rowan was so fucking lucky that Jester had scrying prepared _and_ had the energy to cast it. She sat in the middle of the room, little statues of the Traveler surrounding her, as she intoned in her playful voice. “Oh Traveler, we already looked throughout the whole Lavish Chateau for the little one… do you see them? Can you find them?”

The green cloaked visage of her patron dipped across her shoulders as his power flung her up and into the clouds. It was dizzying, the sudden height, but soon she dropped down to Nicodranas. “They’re still in the city,” she mumbled as the vision began to clear. “In the Open Quay?” She knew what the area looked like from above; she’d grown accustomed to seeing it through her mother’s windows. But from there the image blurred and her brow furrowed. “I see them now,” she said, and began relaying what she saw.

* * *

Rowan hadn’t exactly intended to leave that evening, so they didn’t have a plan of attack. When they ran away from home, it hadn’t been a plan either. But since that experience had turned out alright in the end, they weren’t as worried as they probably should’ve been.

Without Caleb’s memory of the city, they wandered through the streets without much direction. The Nein had contacted a goblin in the wizard’s tower of the Open Quay— the plan was that they’d go there the next morning. And seeing as how the only wizards they knew were Ameile and Caleb, they assumed whoever had this tower would be just as welcoming. 

This assumption was not correct. But not incorrect, either.

They found their way to the magical shrinking and growing tower by the time the morning grew cold. Cold enough to settle into their fingers and toes; it was not a sensation they were unaccustomed to. But it was one they did not enjoy, nor had felt for a good while. 

The tears they’d pushed to the back of their mind, kept inside while they chased pavement and kept to the shadows, bubbled forth. It’d been hours. Long enough that what was left of their shattered fortitude broke, the damn flowing free. Tired, their legs buckled under them until they leaned against the tower. It was solid and cold against their back. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to dissolve into a crying fit next to a wizard’s tower, in the middle of an open expanse, plain for any passerby to see. But it was at that hour where anyone in their right mind would be asleep. Which is why the confused voice from above them made a singe of terror run up their spine. _Fuck._

Above them was a dark-skinned elf, tanned and golden and a bit ruffled. “Can I help you?” He asked, looking down at the kid from a balcony ten feet in the air. It was slightly to their left. They sniffled and pushed themselves up, sopping up their tears with a corner of their cloak. Which they then remembered to use properly, and flung the hood over their eyes.

“This little one was with those oddballs who knocked on the tower earlier in the evening,” another voice explained. Rowan could see the goblin’s face from between the balcony’s railing, miffed but concerned. 

“You mentioned they’d come back in the morning.” He looked down at Rowan. “I did not expect that to be so early.”

 _I— I’m not— I’m not with them,_ Rowan signed, watching as a look of confusion crossed the wizard’s face. He sighed, and cast a spell the kid recognized. They explained themselves again, watching as understanding passed over the elf’s expression. _I kind of… left?_

“You ran away.”

“What did they do?” the goblin asked, looking down at them. He stood on his tiptoes to look over the stone banister. “Everything was fine this evening.”

_They’re going to send me away._

“They are adventurers.” Had the elf been anything but elegant, Rowan would’ve expected him to roll his eyes. “What do you expect from that? There is danger, inherent in that. And, if my assumption is correct,” he looked them up and down, “you are not exactly one yourself.”

Puffing up their chest, they screwed up their nose and felt their body blur. Then, hearing the small noises of surprise from the figures above, they felt the air around them whirl about. It pushed them, pack and all, ten feet into the air, just high enough so they were eye-level with the goblin. Whose expression, at that moment, was a bit confused but mildly impressed. “Oh!” 

As Rowan began to sail down, they felt a force stop them. “I hope you were not trying to enter my tower without express permission,” Yussa grumbled. “But I can see you are not without quirks. A sorcerer, then.” The force holding them up brought them over the balcony railing. “A sorcerer who has a connection to the elements, if I understand that specific ability correctly.” Rowan nodded.

_My old teacher told me I was born during a heavy storm._

“Surprised that’s all that’s needed,” the goblin said.

Yussa shrugged. “It often runs in the blood. Perhaps yours is both.” He turned around and opened the door. “I am not taking you in. But you can stay the night. Tomorrow,” he added as he looked over his shoulder, “You speak to your people. Then you all do whatever you do. Leave on your own, or go with them. I do not care which.” He gestured for them to follow him inside. “But you cannot stay here. I am too busy with my own things to care for a child.”

* * *

Beau scoffed. “Fucking kid went to that damned Yussa.” She pulled her hair from its topbun and ran her hands through it, pulling at the hairs. It hurt, for a moment, until she let go. When the tension on her scalp relaxed, she imagined it bleeding from her shoulders, her torso, her arms. “I mean… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why would they go to Yussa?” Nott asked, looking around. “He wasn’t exactly welcoming before.”

Caduceus hummed. Patting Jester on the shoulder, the group watched as she dropped the scry. “If you can’t see them anymore, they’re probably inside his tower. Caleb—” he looked up at the wizard— “mentioned that wizards don’t often let people watch them from afar by magical means.”

“I would not, had I built the tower,” he told the group, shrugging. “It is common for towers and other homes to be enchanted against it, or warded.”

“Then I would not be surprised the young one went there,” Caduceus nodded, looking at the group. “We should go get them in the morning.”

“I would agree,” Fjord said, “but if something went wrong with Jester’s scry—” At her frustrated expression, he held a hand up. “Not that it’s your fault. But sometimes that kind of magic is wonky, right? You said it yourself, it can be off, or not as detailed as we’d hope.”

“Yeah, that does happen,” she admitted. Sitting back against her mother’s legs, she looked up at the Ruby. “Why did they run away?”

“They may’ve heard us discussing things,” Caduceus said. The group looked at him, heads whipping around to look at the serene expression on the firbolg’s face. “Well, I did hear someone passing the door. But I don’t know who it was, or where they left to. When I opened the door, I didn’t see anyone.”

Standing, Beau asked, “No doors closing?”

A bit pale, Yasha said to Marion, “Nobody here would take the child.” It was more question than statement, but it held a hope. These people, fancy as they were, were people. And people were sometimes selfish, sometimes creepy, and sometimes downright evil. Fancy or not, people did terrible things. What fancy people had, though, was the ability to pay people to look the other way. Or pay for very well-insulated rooms.

Beau intoned something about sound-proof walls being both great and terrible, but Caleb interjected. “If they were here, Yasha, Jester’s scry should’ve shown us.”

“True,” Fjord agreed. “It has no reason to be in the Open Quay.”

“What I still don’t understand,” Molly said, leaning over the back of a couch, his tail thrashing behind him, “is why they went to a wizard’s tower, of all places?”

Nodding, the others contemplated it. No idea came to a consensus until Caduceus pointed out, “Ameile— the teacher they mentioned— she is a wizard, correct?” Beau nodded, remembering the few times Rowan mentioned her. “And Caleb is a wizard.” The Zemnian furrowed his brow at the obvious statement. “Perhaps they think wizards are just… altruistic.” He held up his hands.

“I am not altruistic,” Caleb argued, standing up to join Beau in pacing the floor. “But if they grew up with a practitioner who helped them often enough, it may be ingrained in them that wizards are… good.”

“I think Yussa is good,” Molly agreed, “underneath all of the…” He waved his hand in the air, picking his words. “Snootiness.”

“And we can’t go now because…?” Jester moaned.

“Because wizards— or anyone— don’t like to be awake at three fifty seven in the morning,” Caleb grumbled. “We’re tired enough as it is… Going now would just make conversing with him worse.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Beau threw herself onto the couch, Molly pulling himself off the back to protect his arms from her legs kicking up. “Nap and then to the tower.”

And so they did. With varying states of effectiveness, the adults all tried to sleep. Yasha and Molly returned to the room, where she joined him on the bed so it did not feel so empty. Fjord and Caduceus returned to their room, but the warlock sat awake, watching the waves. The fact they’d discussed the kid running away— and then they did— struck home how different they were from him. He sighed, looking at the morning sun rising over the horizon. It’d be daybreak soon enough, and Caduceus needed to sleep. _He_ needed to sleep. He drew the curtains and tried cat-napping against the wall like he’d seen Yasha do before.

It wasn’t comfortable.

Beau found herself with Jester, who curled around the monk. She, too, could not sleep. The irony of their earlier conversation was not lost on her. In fact, it was pointed enough to stab her in the chest every time she remembered the _several_ attempts in her own childhood. Running away from home in Kamordah, only to be caught by the towns guard. Running from the Cobalt Soul, to be found and retrieved by Dairon. She wondered at her mentor’s location, now she was involved with the Kryn. Maybe the Nein would see her when they went to Felderwin. Beau was unsure.

Caleb, too, was awake and conversing in hushed tones with Nott. Both had closed their eyes, if only to rest them. In the half-dark of the early morning, he talked about running back in the day. She told her own story again, adding a few more details. And as the light crept over the horizon, they reminisced about the better days when they’d been running together. When things had been easier. 

“If you need to leave,” Nott said, holding Caleb’s hand, “I’ll run with you. Always.”

“And the same for you, _schatz_ ” Caleb agreed, squeezing her hand. “But perhaps we should run to the kiddo.

* * *

Rowan awoke in an unfamiliar bed— of course it was. The night’s flight peeked into their half-asleep mind, raising its unavoidable head above the line, slowly growing visible as it crept into their conscious thought. With it came a rising fear. Panic. 

They threw the blankets off of their body, and tore themselves from the sheets. They were very nice sheets, just like in the Chateau. Not the same— Yussa’s house was all warm tones; gold and copper and warm browns mixed with greens that dipped just a toe into blue. Like the shores around Nicodranas, mirrored in his home. It matched what they’d seen of the wizard himself, as though both his surroundings and himself had to follow a cohesive aesthetic. 

Maybe this was just always how wizards functioned. Memories of Ameile, growing distant as they moved further away from the Cyrengreen forests, poked at the back of their mind. Oh, yes, she had her own look. The cabin they’d lived in for almost two years— by the end, it looked just like her, in it’s own way. 

Ameile did not look like Rowan. Her skin was pale and pink in the light, veins under her skin bright and blue. Her hair was cool, too, black with a tinge of the darkest midnight tones. She wore deep, rich tones that looked expensive. (All of Rowan’s clothes, before Jester had given up her old things, had been tones that were more like the earth than its gems.) She loved vibrant reds, crisp forest greens, and deep turquoise tones. Not like Yussa’s; Ameile’s dark teal colors reminded them of the shaded boughs of pine trees. 

It made sense, that she felt at home in the forest. And that she’d fled back when given the chance. 

Rowan looked down at the clothes they were wearing. Their old clothes. A shirt that was once white, but had ended up turning cream, a pair of trousers that were black but ended up turning brown, and an old scarf of their mother’s tied around their narrow waist as a sash-slash-belt. That, too, had started out more vibrant but had faded in the sun to be a seafoam color. 

The things they actually enjoyed wearing— the overalls, the straw hat, the dress, the velvet shirt, the trousers with colorful patches, the cloak— those items were Jester’s. It didn’t belong to them, not really. 

And, they guessed, they didn’t belong to the Nein in the same way. 

They trotted out of the room after Prestidigitating everything clean, looking around at the tower to find a way out. Starting with the bottom floors, they stumbled into the sitting room they’d seen before, a room with what looked like a teleportation circle in the center, and a couple locked doors.

Curious, they returned to the teleportation circle. Assuring themselves they were only going to look, they wandered around the circular room. It was quiet and dark in here, the light from torches in the hallway all they could see with. After a couple turns around the circumference, they plopped down at the center. In their mind’s eye, they tried to imagine what it’d feel like to go from one part of the world to another. That started to make their head hurt, so they stopped thinking about whether or not it hurt. They decided that— if wizards are as squishy and weak as Jester and Beau and Nott joke about— it can’t hurt anyone more than a pinch or a prickle. Soon, the boredom growing in at the edges of their patience, they found themselves digging out a piece of paper. Laying on the floor, they began to rub a piece of colored chalk over the paper, transferring sigils and runes.

“I hope you are not looking to sneak your way back into my tower,” Yussa said, standing in the open doorway. “It was my surprise to find the room empty, when I checked. The though that you were here did not cross my mind until I saw the open door.”

 _I… looked for a way out._ They explained, letting the magical words hover above them. They glowed, enough that it illuminated their sheepish expression. The wizard nodded, not saying anything more. Coughing a bit to evict the frog that’d settled in their throat, they added, _The door was open. ___

_“Yet you went in.”_

__I was… curious?_ _

_“While it is not an attribute I would dissuade you from pursuing, perhaps regard the circumstances more carefully in the future.” He nodded to them. His tone was not severe— but it was far from the softness of Yasha’s quiet assuredness or the playful chiding of Mollymauk’s sarcasm. Yussa sounded grand, important, and old. Very, very old._

_Packing up their things, they said, _I didn’t copy all of it down.__

_“That I am glad of.”_

__I just liked the runes._ _

_“Can you not read them?” He looked at their slight blush and shook his head. “Of course. Sorcerers are not required to learn the arcane arts before application.” He sighed. “And the wizard does not teach this to you?” He strode from the room, locking it behind him before he escorted Rowan downstairs. “I was under the impression he was your… mentor.”_

__He tried to teach me some things._ Yussa waited for them to clarify. _I still don’t know how to cast Feather Fall.__

_“A useful spell to learn, and not one sorcerers are incapable of doing.”_

__I know a few things. I can create thunder around me. I can make make a bolt of energy jump from person to person, if I’m lucky. And I can shoot ice at people._ _

_“For someone so quiet and well-behaved,” Yussa pointed out, “You know quiet a lot of spells that maim and harm.”_

__..._ Their hands hovered in the air in front of them, nothing cast and nothing signed. The pause lengthened, their eyes hovering around Yussa’s feet. _I wanted them to keep me around. <./i>__

__“But it was you who left.” His tone was polite as he sat down on one of the sofas. A tray of scones, complete with jam and clotted cream, popped onto the table. A couple of cinnamon-covered pastries sat beside a pot of warm tea. He poured it as he waited._ _

___They were going to send me away._ _ _

__“But they have not.” When they shook their head, he sighed. After a sip of the tea, he looked down at them. With a resounding clink in the quiet morning air, he set his teacup on its saucer. “I am not one for mentorship. It is in my best interests, with my current area of study, to research and contemplate the arcane alone. Though,” he said, a spark of something in his words causing Rowan’s chin to rise, “I have had the pleasure of tutelage under great wizards in my youth. And I have this to say._ _

__“There are not many opportunities in this world for young sorcerers. Wizards can be taught by anyone with knowledge of the arcane. Clerics and paladins may find a temple and pray to their god for priviledges. Warlocks may find a patron to bestow their favor. Druids, too, may seek out the tutelage of other druids, or look to nature itself as a guide._ _

__“Sorcerers cannot do this.” They looked down at their hands. “It is through trial and error, and trail and error alone, that will teach you how to harness your abilities.” Rowan nodded, head still held down. “I will tell them this. That it is… perhaps the safest option for you to continue with a group of adventurers.” They looked up, surprise written all over the lines of their face. He chuckled at their confusion, and added, “I have heard tales of sorcerers who bottled up their magic, only to lose control. Things happen, later down the line, and… malfunctions in casting occur.”_ _

___Wild magic._ _ _

__“This is… a theory of mine. I have lived a long time, but do not have the ability to trace all circumstances of a sorcerer’s creation. It is much more amorphous than learning wizardry.” Taking a final sip of his tea, he cleared his throat. “The time for your party’s arrival approaches. Wait upstairs— you may listen at the door if you so choose. I will not dissuade you from that. If what they say meets with your approval,” he knelt next to them for just a moment. “Then you can leave with them. If not, I will send you to a friend of mine. She would, in the event that she could not raise you, find a suitable person on Taldorei who would be more than happy to call you their child.”_ _

__Before Rowan could react, he rose, and gestured to the door. It swung open, the lights in the hallway flickering on. “Go on, listen to what they have to say.”_ _

* * *

__Caduceus and Beau are the two members of the Nein allowed entrance into Yussa’s tower, at first. Both express the Nein’s wishes— to know if Rowan is okay, to ask whether or not they ran away again. For his part, Yussa’s answers are polite, if vague, but accurate. “They are safe within this very tower. And it is their perogative whether they leave when you do, or seek other council.”_ _

__“I get that,” Beau said, wringing her hands. “I get that but— they’re okay?”_ _

__“You are asking for my personal opinion on their… emotional state?” When she nodded, he sighed at the monk. “I am not good with children. I am of an age where I have not been, nor had a reason to be near, a child in a long while. They appear fine. Perhaps slighted, hurt, and flighty.”_ _

__“That’s to be expected,” Caduceus said, pouring Yussa more tea. “And hopefully they’re here to hear us. That being said, I believe you would like to hear of other business to attend to?”_ _

__“I would,” he said, taking more of the dead people tea with clear, unadulterated pleasure. “This is some… wonderful tea.”_ _

__“It is,” Caduceus said, before he steered the conversation with a gentle, but firm, touch back to topics of adventure and intrigue._ _

__Rowan started to tune that out, knowing most of what the Nein wanted from the wizard. They’d been there for the long, long conversations where ideas and situations flitted about over their head. Quite literally. Nott had taken it upon herself to give something to Rowan to play with while the adults talked. It felt… both nice and condescending. If they had the motivation to, they knew they could keep up with the theories and ideas the adults discussed. Instead, they just kept their head down._ _

__Perhaps that was just another reason why the Nein felt they were incapable of staying with them._ _

__As the idea jolted through them, they pressed their ear to the door again. They should keep up with this conversation, just to prove it. And then they’d surprise everyone. They’d walk back into Yussa’s front room and stand around, adding to the conversation with their knowledge. And after that, the Nein would ask them to return. And then they’d say yes, and when— they froze._ _

__Yes. When._ _

__Heat rolled up their cheeks and they redoubled their efforts. Just in case. Just in case they changed their mind. Rowan’s ear pressed to the door, they heard as the rest of the group entered. They soon caught the adults discussing Uk’otoa, his cult, and his possibe return; giving the wizard the Happy Fun Ball of Tricks from Twiggy; showing him the Dodecahedron; and discussing plans. And after all that, they went quiet._ _

__“Beau mentioned the little one, our _kleiner Zauberer_ is inside,” Caleb said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We are… both surprised you took them in and also very grateful.”_ _

__“It is not something I often do,” Yussa agreed. “However, they proved… interesting. And their predicament was, perhaps, simple enough to solve that it would not cause myself or my assistant any hardships.”_ _

__“And they are listening?” asked Yasha. “You said that earlier.”_ _

__The wizard nodded. “If it suited them, they are capable of it. I did not ward the door from eavesdropping,” he explained, gesturing to it. “It is often the case, but can be deactivated for temporary purposes.”_ _

__“That’s handy,” Molly agreed, “So long as you don’t forget to activate it when you do want it.”_ _

__“I assure you, that is never the case.”_ _

__“Yeah, I imagine you’d be… careful like that.” Rowan giggled at the tone in the tiefling’s voice. Sarcastic. So like him. “So!” He raised his voice, turning to face the door. “If you’re going to come back, you can. Now. We’re done talking about the boring stuff.”_ _

__Beau grunted. “It’s not boring—”_ _

__“They always seem to check out,” Nott agreed. “They do like playing with my button collect—”_ _

__The group silenced at once, the click of the door loud enough to echo in the near silence that followed. Quiet, careful, and slow, Rowan rounded the door and looked at the group._ _

__They looked… tired. Much more tired that they themselves felt. Jester wasn’t as perky as before. There were dark circles under Caleb’s and Beau’s and Yasha’s eyes. Not that the wizard didn’t always have them. But the purple stood out more prominently with his frizzy hair. Fjord wasn’t sitting ramrod straight in his seat. Even Caduceus and Molly looked a bit rough, though both had kept up appearances better than the others._ _

__“Hey, you,” the tiefling said, scooting on the couch to leave room for them. “Join us?”_ _

__“We were— we were so worried!” Jester sqeaked, her voice quieting the second time around._ _

__Yasha, for her part, looked down at the kid and sighed. When they sat down in the gap Molly left, she set about finger combing their hair before beginning to braid it. There was a moment of quiet as she continued, looping sections around others in an intricate pattern. When she finished, she didn’t tie it. She just forced her fingers through to untangle it all and started up again._ _

__“We,” Fjord said, coughing into a fist when Rowan’s gaze swept over him. “We won’t do that again.” When they just nodded— prompting Yasha to begin rebraiding their hair— he continued. “You know we’re planning to hit up Felderwin. And that there’s Kryn activity in the area. We… wanted to find someone to take you in because we were concerned about your safety.”_ _

__“And Yussa explained,” Nott added, “that there’s some things we didn’t know about. Even Caleb didn’t know about them.”_ _

__“I did not have the opportunity to train with magic-users of your style, _Zauberer_ ,” he admitted, “and so I assumed it was much like when I stopped doing magic. Something that one can drop and pick up, if with some difficulty in forgetting.”_ _

__“Which is a long-winded way of saying we’re sorry,” Caduceus supplied. The group agreed, quiet and hesitant. “But—” at his words Rowan took in a sharp breath. “We would be able to make better choices, and eliminate choices that are not useful, if we knew more things. Like Yussa’s wild magic theory.”_ _

__“Or, like, whether or not you want to see your family again,” Jester supplied. “Or Ameile.”_ _

__“By the by,” Fjord asked, “Do you know of a wizard named Ameile?” Yussa shook his head in response. “Ah, worth a shot.”_ _

___She grew up by the forest between Othe and Feolinn._ Rowan watched as the group stared at their comment. Confusion crossed over their expression._ _

__At the group’s collective silent conversation— all quick glances shot between pairs of party members— Nott mumbled, “We’d like to hear more.”_ _

__“When you are comfortable,” Caduceus agreed, amending the statement a bit. The goblin looked up at him, opening her mouth only to close it again a moment later. Rowan glanced over their shoulder but saw nothing but the firbolg’s calm countenance. “But first— Jester?”_ _

__“Oh, right!” She pulled the haversack in front of her and rooted around in it. “We brought your bag and your stuff— it’s okay if you don’t want it anymore, though, I just thought it’d be nice for you to have a change of clothes— oh! And a present from my mama.” She put the backpack— her old backpack, now designated as Rowan’s— on the ground next to their dangling feet. Pulling a final thing from the bag, she handed Rowan a small box, a lilac ribbon tied around it. “It’s a present.”_ _

__Staring at it in their hands, they looked up. Yasha nodded to it, taking the ribbon they pulled free and tying it around the ends of their hair. Inside was a crystal or stone of some kind. It was no larger than the fingernail on their pinky. They held it up to the light, watching as it cast color around as each of the facets reflected and refracted the light. As they held it further up, the chain it was attached to slunk its way out of the box. It was one continuous piece of gold links, each one tiny and dainty._ _

__“It’s called an apatite,” Jester added, looking at them. “She said this one came from rocks that sailed down from the heavens.” Whispering the last bit, she added, “Or so her patron said.”_ _

__Nott watched the sparkles, enraptured just as much as Rowan. “It’s the same color of your eyes.”_ _

__“It is,” Yasha said, patting their head. “It is a good present.”_ _

__Molly added, “You should thank her.”_ _

__They nodded. They would. They would return that night with the Nein. They would apologize, explain why they’d gone, and promise not to do it again. They would sit with the Nein and follow the adult’s conversation, adding in their opinion that Alfield was nice before, and they wouldn’t mind going back. They would help the adults the next morning pack up the cart. They would sit in the back of the cart with Nott, an absent-minded hand following the wood grain as they hid from prying eyes in the enchantment. They would help Yasha collect wildflowers._ _

__And, soon, they would tell the Nein everything. They just had to figure out what, exactly, was worth telling them._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so marks the point at which new things will transition to old things.
> 
> I'm so excited to get to the next chapter-- it's literally sat in my document since 2019, and I am ready for it to see the light of day. And I hope, dear reader, you enjoy it.


	20. Out of Three, One and Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Felderwin, by way of Alfield, gives the Nein the distinct opportunity to admit a few things. About their path, about their present, and about their past. After a week to contemplate, Rowan tells them everything.

Before hitting Felderwin, the Nein stopped in Alfield; it made the most sense— it was on the way, it was a large town, it had ample supplies, and they could visit Bryce. 

Inside the cart, underneath the everpresent enchantment, Rowan watched as Caduceus’s ears picked up. He flickered his cow-like eyes towards them, swooping his gaze over to the Righteous Brand soldiers. Alerting them. Oh, they’d already seen. Silver, flashing plate mail and dark red trimming was hard to mistake. Especially against the more muted blues and greens and browns that most of the townsfolk were wearing. 

An old tension twisted through their gut. While the decision to stay with the Nein had felt obvious, finding themselves surrounded by law keepers and guards was not a situation they enjoyed. A flick of his tail drew their gaze away and over to Caleb, who also looked a bit tense. He sat in the front of the cart, looking forwards with a stony expression. 

“There’s… about a hundred,” he intoned, gazing at the soldiers, too. Raising their hand just out of the enchantment, they gave his sleeve a tug. An acknowledgement. They’d been counting, too. He gave them a wry smile, and looked to Caduceus. 

He didn’t seem phased, but he never did; it soothed like a balm over both of their anxieties.

Beau shrugged. “What do you expect? Felderwin is the next major town over. It’s only a few days’ travel. And we’re at war with the Dynasty.” Wrapping her arms around herself, though, she gazed towards Molly and Jester and Fjord, all of whom stood out like the colorful jewels they were. An amethyst, a sapphire, and an emerald in the creams and browns and tans of the humans, elves, and half-elvish folk. “Stationing a platoon or two makes sense.”

Beside Rowan, Nott sighed. “Look over there.” Her whisper drew their watchful eyes. “They’re looking at all of the entrances and exits of the town. Probably doing a head-count and keeping an eye on… undesirables.” She looked at herself, then joined Beau in staring over at the other colorful members of the group. 

“Well, let’s just look for Bryce, _ja_ ,” Caleb said, mussing up his hair. As he was wont to do, he’d let himself take on a bit of dirt as they’d traveled. “They will tell us what information they can.”

“Then we’ll be off and on our way,” Fjord said, patting the edge of the cart. “No problems.” He smiled, then wandered with Jester over to a few townfolk. They might be odd and out of place. But they were memorable. And having done good the last time they came through, it was to their advantage. With those three, The Nein were recognizable, having kept the same members the entire time, and so were quickly guided to the watchmaster.

Their posture was tense and straight, but when they saw it was just some old friends looking to say hello the watchmaster slouched a hair. “My goodness. It’s been some time, friends! You look…” They looked over the group, taking in all the changes in clothes and scars and tans. Even Caleb was sporting a bit of a tan from their journeys on the high seas. “You look traveled.”

“Thanks!” Beau said, beaming. She fluffed the collar of Avantika’s old, sleeveless coat.

“What can I do to help you?” They asked, stepping into the shade of a nearby building and taking their helmet off.

Jester smiled, sitting on the edge of the cart. “Well, mostly, we’re just wondering if you have any information about what’s been going on. With the Dynasty, and the Empire, and the war, and all of that.”

“Well,” Bryce said, shaking their hair out with a hand, “best that we can— best that I know, at least— we’re just being as careful as possible. We didn’t expect things to press this far east this quickly.” They gestured to Fjord, who produced the map. They explained the usual field of battle, and then prodded at Felderwin. “A recent assault happened around here. The attacks came from underground, or so says the brief missive I received.” They shrugged. “One has been sent around to the various law masters in the area.

“Underground?” Fjord took the map back and rolled it up. He stared at it. “That seems odd. Were they able to repel these attacks?”

“It wasn’t a direct assault. Apparently,” they continued, looking about, “and this put is in a bit of a tizzy recently, they managed to just… appear in the city from underneath. They burned some of the fields and destroyed some buildings. Then they just… left. As they arrived, so far as I know.” Looking somber, they added, “I don’t know the exact number dead; you’d probably have to ask in town.”

“Are you worried?” Molly squished onto the bench next to Caduceus. He let his tail curl up and around the back of the seat. Rowan felt it wrap around their wrist. They took a steadying breath and let it out quietly. “It’s pretty close to here.” 

"I'm a bit worried, yes.” They looked about to the soldiers milling about in the town. “We're all a bit worried. We don't want to alarm the populace, but…” They sighed. “Rumors spread and we do our best to quell them." Leaning forwards, they whispered, “We're just hoping that there isn't much of a reason to stop in Alfield. At least we know that Felderwin supplies most of the Empire with its food and crops and such, so there seems to be some strategic reason for that assault, though I don't see what purpose Alfield has in the larger spectrum, so I'm banking on that."

Jester smiled. “Cool.”

Clearing their throat, Bryce asked, "Where are you off to?"

The group stared at each other. With a chuckle, Fjord admitted, “Felderwin.”

"Well, good news is they've already been attacked. Hopefully the lightning doesn't strike twice." They smiled. “

“They stole whatever it was they were trying to steal, I guess.”

Beau nodded at Caduceus’s statement. “That's exactly what I think.”

“Actually, would a letter of good note get us any further in case we run into anybody?” Caduceus looked to the others. “It's worth asking, I suppose.”

They shook their head. “I’m not exactly equipped for these kinds of things. Maybe another lawmaster, but I’m not the one you’d look to for that.” Looking around, they sighed again. The tension that had bled from their shoulders at the Nein’s arrival returned. “In all sincerity, it's good to see you all. But I do have things to attend to."

Rowan and Nott poked their heads out of the enchantment as the group said their collective goodbyes to Bryce. Rowan watched as their eyes traced over their features. Their heart stopped for a moment. Then, the watchmaster smiled, gave them a nod, and left. “Travel safe," they said with a parting wave.

After a moment Nott looked at them, perplexed at their frozen expression. Did they know? Was Rowan’s name and picture still on whatever list Ameile’s had been on, all those months ago? They ducked underneath the enchantment, not noticing the woman’s gaze. There’d been no outward indication, the last time the Nein came through, that Bryce thought something was up. Perhaps, with the rising tide of the war, there’d been a new bulletin? Or they’d just been given a newer edition, with Rowan’s face on the list of… undesirables? 

“You doing alright, kiddo?”

Rowan shook themselves from the thought. Best to stay with the Nein, in any case. The group was moving on the following day. Or, if worst came to worst, they’d talk the watchmaster out of arresting a ten-year-old. Or, at least, it’d give Rowan the necessary time to run away. _I’m fine,_ they cast, letting it hang in the air. 

“You don’t look alright,” Molly said, flopping over the back of the seat and landing with an ungraceful thud on the bed of the cart. He shot Nott a smirk and said, “You looked like you’d take off again.”

 _I won’t. I promise._ Unless they had to get away from the law. But they would wind their way back, when the coast was clear. 

“Is it the guards?” Caleb asked, peeking through the enchantment. Leaning over, he held out a hand to Nott. She helped him crawl under the enchantment. “They always keep an eye out.”

“You always keep an eye out,” Nott reminded him. “But you’re right.”

“Why is that?” He asked, red eyes boring into their soul.

Fingers twitching, they admitted, _That wasn’t the first time I had to run away._

“I gathered as much, from your whole… introduction to the group” Mollymauk drawled. His tail flickered in the air next to Rowan’s shoulder before playfully patting them on the arm. “I don’t think you’ll have to be worried about them taking you home. It’s been… what? Three years, you said?” His smirk grew wider. “Longer than I’ve been me, and nobody’s come looking for me.”

“Except that cat-lady,” Nott reminded him. She smirked when Molly’s face fell. “You forgot about Cree?”

“More like I was trying to forget.” He shivered; whether it was in jest or in earnest Rowan could not tell. “It’s not fun to be called by a name that’s dead to you.”

 _She knew you… before you were you?_ Rowan asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Yes, she did.” He sighed. A beat passed, and then he turned back to them. “But really. Unless you live in Alfield, you should be fine.” He paused again. “Where did you grow up? Do you remember?”

 _I remember,_ they assured him. _It’s not near here._

Narrowing her eyes, Nott asked, “Was it up by Rexxentrum?” Rowan shook their head at that. North, yes. But not that far north. “Well, no wonder. I would’ve expected Caleb to know Ameile if you’d grown up near where he went to school.”

“That could’ve been the case. But the child is… how old again?” He nodded at their hands. “Yes, about ten. I was not… myself either at that time. I would not have known.”

“Well, heres to us, now, and becoming ourselves in the meantime!” Mollymauk held up his waterskin; he chugged it and let out a gasping whoop. “And here’s to sleeping in a bed in an inn tonight!” He smiled at the group, his tail wrapping around their arm. When Nott asked Caleb a question about the length of time they’d travel the next day to get to Felderwin, Molly leaned over to Rowan and whispered, “You don’t have to tell us, Ro.” At their slight jump, he squeezed his tail. The pressure was reassuring. “But I can’t say we’re all not curious.”

They nodded. _I’m… thinking._

“Good! I look forward to hearing it.” He sat up, his tail unwrapping. “Now, are we going to give the kiddo here a homework break when we’re in town? A bit of a respite?”

“That sounds fair,” Fjord said. “They’ve gotten through quite a good deal of their studies on the journey.”

“They learn quickly,” Caleb agreed. He looked to Caduceus. “Rests are good, from time to time, no?”

“Oh,” he agreed, nodding. In his slow, sage way, he said, “They’re good until they turn into a depression.” Rowan did not want to think about how he knew that. “But we shouldn’t have time for that. So why not?”

True to their word, the Nein did not ask Rowan to do any reading or writing or studying for the day. Rested, rationed, and ready for the road, they journeyed eastward. “It is three-and-a-half days’ travel,” Caleb intoned while he walked alongside Fjord, the map stretched between them. Geography of Wildemount was, ostensibly, part of their studies. “We are on the Rillway Road.” He pointed it out to Rowan, who was leaning out from the cart. They had tried walking with the other two, but the adults held the map too high for them to see. “There is a river between us and the town— we’ll cross a bridge along the way.”

“There a troll under the bridge?” Molly asked, poking his head out of the cart, too. He’d been going over Rowan’s primers with them; he said it was for their help, but Rowan suspected the others’ quiet jabs were a bit more accurate than he let on— he could not read well. Granted, it seemed like he’d restarted everything that day he’d awoken in the dirt. For being a toddler, he did quite well. 

“Not that I know of,” Caleb said, looking over at him. “Why, looking for some combat?”

“If you’re bored, you can join me in my morning warm-ups,” Beau offered.

“While I’m touched, unpleasant-one,” Molly said, his tail flicking in a way that said he was happier than his tone was, “I’m not going to go about beefing myself up. That’s for you and Yasha.” He looked around. “And Jester. How come I never see you doing workouts, Jes?”

“That’s cause I’m just super strong anyways,” she said. 

“Maybe it’s from all the pranking,” Nott decided. 

“Beats me!”

She smiled and jumped on the cart. Molly switched out with Caleb, who was intent on spending the days’ travel reading his book of history. At about noon, he looked up at Rowan. They’d started to rub their eyes. “Do they hurt when you read too long?” he asked, shutting his book on a finger. A temporary placeholder. 

With a shrug, they shut their book. It was a simple primer on math. They did not like it. When they were counting coins in a store, or helping to pool coins for booze and bread together, or whatever small things the Nein asked them to do, they could do it. But when it was just numbers on a page, it felt harder. _I don’t like it. It maes my head hurt._

“Well, do you want to hear about Nicodranas’s main export?” At their shrug, he said, “It’s oysters.” 

Rowan shook their head. _Tell me about magic?_

“I am surprised.” He put the book down, slotting a scrap piece of fabric between the pages. “You did not seem to care much when I tried aboard the Ball Eater.”

 _No… well..._ They looked down at the wood, blushing. _Teach me about magic. What… why can wizards do spells if they don’t have a god? Or a patron?_

“Oh, you are looking for a primer of the arcane.” He smirked. “You would’ve had to go to the Soltryce Academy to learn that,” he jested. “But you are not old enough.” At their affronted expression, his smirk grew. “You must be fifteen to join the Academy.”

Jester looked up from her sketchbook. “But they’re not a wizard! So dumb wizard rules don’t apply. Like,” she put her book down, lying down on her stomach. “I learned spells from the Traveler, right? And I’m a cleric ‘cause he’s a god and he can give me super cool, magical powers. And I read about druids and rangers, who can sometimes do magic ‘cause of their love of nature and things.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Yeah, I read about this group on Taldorei,” Beau blurted out, poking her head in. “They’ve even got this guy who just… sings and magic does shit.”

“Bards,” Caleb said, nodding. “They use their charisma to access the arcane.”

“And monks can sometimes do magic, right?”

“It’s not magic persay,” Beau admitted. “We train to access our qi, which gives us superhuman— or super-tiefling, if you’re a tiefling— abilities.” She shrugged. “When I get good, I can run across water. How dope is that?”

“Very dope.” At Caleb’s somber tone, she punched him on the shoulder. He whined. “Why do you hate me?”

“Because you’re a scrawny man who smells.”

“That’s just his eau-du-protection-from-Crownsguard,” Jester giggled. 

“But yeah,” she said, steering the topic back. “So if you need a connection to something— like Fjord’s evil sea god, or something legit like a god, how come some bards and sorcerers can do magic?”

“There is usually a reason for it,” Caleb agreed. “Either a magical bloodline— dragonborn or fae creatures— or a connection to another plane. Shadowfell, or the like.” He looked to Rowan. “Do you have any dragons or fae in your family?”

Shaking their head, they explained what Ameile had said. “That is possible.” Nodding, he looked into the distance. “You do a good deal of spells pertaining to storms.”

“How sure are we the kiddo’s not secretly a cleric of the Storm Lord?”

“Yasha did not seem to know. And I doubt the _kleiner Zauberer_ had the opportunity to worship an illegal god if they grew up in the Empire.” 

At her name, Yasha peered in. “I do not think they are a cleric,” she pointed out. “They do not carry a holy symbol.” She gestured to Jester’s emblem of the traveler. “You use it when casting magic. THey do not.”

“That is… really smart!” She beamed at the barbarian, who blushed a bit. “Yeah, so the kid’s a sorcerer _for sure_ ,” she decided, hopping out of the cart.

“Do you want to hear about the different schools of magic?” A hopeful expression turned to Rowan’s. When they nodded, he launched into an explanation of the different types. Complete, to their surprise and delight, with him flipping through his spellbook to find examples. Abjuration, transmutation, divination, it all seemed like such complicated things. “Most of the spells you can do,” he mentioned, flipping to Fireball in his book, “are called evocation. It manipulates energy,” he says, pointing at that point in his spell notation, “and uses it to some effect. Damage, often. Or light. Both are ways to direct the flow of the weave.”

Rowan nodded, using prestidigitation to create a miniature drawing of themselves casting Thunderclap. _Like this?_

“Essentially, yes.” He smiled. “Though, Prestiditigation is a transmutation cantrip.”

“Don’t you do a lot of transmutation, Mr. Caleb?” Caduceus asked, keying into the conversation.

“Ah, that I do. Yes.” His ears and cheekbones dusted pink. “It is kind of you to notice.”

“Oh, just the usual.” Nodding, he added, “And the dodecahedron? What kind of magic is that?”

“Not one I know of,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But there is the possibility it is divination. Or…” He clapped his book shut. “Or it could be a new type of magic I do not yet know.” They exchanged smiles, the three of them. “It is something I hope to learn.”

Grinning up at him, Rowan let their fingers cast a quick image. A dark-haired woman, taking a knee on illusory ground, showing a smaller version of themselves a fireworks show. Each burst of energy sprang forth from her twirling fingers, a smile playing across her face. They let it glow, lighting up their tense smile. Then, they looked up into Caleb’s eyes.

He, too, was tense. “Is this… Ameile?” They nodded. “And you know I cannot forget.” They nodded again, letting it play a different scene. Ameile and themselves, running through a forest. The trees passed as the figures ran in place, simulating movement. “So that was your… first time running away,” he calculated. They nodded, and let the image fade a final time. Ameile on her knees, hugging them close. She moved her mouth, silent words pouring forth. Tears sprang from the illusory Rowan, but they nodded. With a step back, she ducked away and vanished. After a second of drying their tears, the illusory Rowan ran the opposite direction. “And that was your second.”

“You’ve ran away three times.” Caduceus let go of one of the reins to pat them on the head. “Don’t they say the third time’s the charm?”

“They do, indeed,” Caleb agreed. “Thank you, for showing me this.”

 _I’ll tell you all the rest when I…_ they paused, contemplating their words. _When I figure out what I want to say._

“Take all the time you need,” Caduceus said. With one last pat, he let their head go and returned his huge hands to the reins. 

Rowan would’ve liked that to happen. But after three more days on the cart, they reached Felderwin. And the lull of peace went to shit.

Fjord drawled, looking at their eyebrows furrowing up, “Are you scared? Do you want to join Luc?” The Nein was crowded around a single table, all contemplating the news. The chair underneath Yeza’s— Nott’s husband’s— shop. The implications. The fact the Kryn had kidnapped someone so close to them. With Nott’s nodding, he blustered on, “Since we’re planning on going to a country where humans aren’t… exactly welcome…” 

It was an excuse they’d heard before. Their protection. It’d started out okay— the conversation focused around Luc and Old Edith going to Nicodranas. Almost inevitably, they had been added into the mix. Just a week ago, too; a pain inside their gut twisted a frustrated grimace out of Rowan. 

Piping up again, Fjord said, “Perhaps it’s a good thing? I mean, we might be attacked. We probably will be.” Ignoring their head shaking side to side, he looked to the goblin— halfling? That news was such a surprise, still. “Nott, do you know if Luc and Old Edith would mind if the kiddo tagged along?” 

They hadn’t told the Nein yet about their past. It was the only card they had left to convince them. To let Rowan stay, for the good of everyone involved. 

“I know that my mom _really_ liked having you there! She’d totally be cool if you came again— plus you could use all of my old clothes! You only picked, like, four things.” 

They were still trying to figure out what was important. All of it seemed important. They dragged a finger through the spilled remnants of someone’s ale tankard, feeling the liquid gather and pool in the crevices of the table. With resolve, they decided; it wasn’t the best situation they could’ve hoped for, but it was their last shot. 

Scratching her head, Nott said, “I doubt Luc would mind. He was— is— an only child. Maybe an older sibling would be good…”

When they flagged the Nein, smacking their hands on the table hard enough to shake the cutlery, they just pointed upstairs. With a frown, the others looked at them as though they were just an angry child. In his wisdom, Caduceus explained it with a sigh. “Ah. You’ve figured out what you want to say?”

They nodded, leaving the table before the others had time to think. As they mounted the steps and walked to Molly and Yasha’s room, they thought.

Of how Nott would pester them about the primers as they rode in the cart. They didn’t read aloud— they couldn’t— but Caleb would lean over and help them with words they stared at for too long. He would sit beside them most of the time, scribbling ideas down into a notebook. His spellbook would stay holstered under his arm; Rowan did not doubt it smelled, just a bit. They’d never been given the opportunity to test it out, but it couldn’t not be stinky.

Of, when they were walking alongside the enchanted cart, how Yasha and Caduceus would point out bits of nature, teach them the names of plants. Most of the time Cad was stuck in the driver’s seat. But when he could, he passed the reigns to Fjord or Molly, and traipsed through the dying grass with the kid. Wandering together, they would go searching for bits of mushrooms or foragable greens. It made the rations taste a bit better. Pocket bacon was hard to come by. On the few occasions where Yasha joined, she’d pluck flowers from the fields or underneath boughs of trees and place them, reverent, into her journal.

Of the end of the day, when the camp was ready and fire crackling, how Beau would pull them aside at the end of the day to join her as she meditated. She showed Rowan how to sit— upright, shoulders back but relaxed, hands in their lap or on their knees. She closed her eyes, gesturing with a lazy hand for Rowan to do the same. The first time they sat together, knees touching on her mat, she repeated a short phrase. “By Ioun.” It didn’t mean anything, not really. When Rowan asked, she explained it was just what her teacher— Dairon— had started with, too. “And… well— I’m not the best at quietly waiting around for things to change. So, I thought… might as well?”

Of when she would go to bed, planning to take last watch with Yasha so they could watch the sunrise, how Molly and Fjord would drag Rowan over to the edge of the campsite. There, the trio’s backs to the fire, Fjord would point up at the stars. With his experience on the waters, he would explain how Rowan could find north, how to navigate in different directions using the lights in the sky or the twirling, dancing phases of the two moons. Molly would listen, adding in his own tales of the constellations: mythic battles, enchanted weapons, fated lovers, conquerers, survivors. 

And of when Jester and Nott switched out for the second watch, and how she’d let Rowan cuddle up with her. In the mornings, they’d find themselves asleep next to her, wrapped up together in her blankets, their head resting between her arms. She’d stroke their hair and kiss the crown of their head. And then she’d pull Rowan up, calling for Molly and Yasha and Nott. The quartet would decide what to do with the kid’s hair that day. Ribbons and braids and twists and buns and the like would be woven into their hair.

It had been a comfortable, gentle routine. One they would not give up.

* * *

The nine members of the Mighty Nein piled into Yasha and Molly’s room, for the simple reason that it was just a smidgen bigger than the others’. Though Rowan puttered around the small chamber for a moment, Jester caught up and guided them to sit in the middle of the bed. She took the pillow and tossed it to them, lounging against the headboard. Beau climbed onto the foot of the bed and curled her legs beneath herself, leaning forwards into a complicated-looking pretzel shape. With a small bounce, Molly launched himself into Jester’s giggling lap, tapping his horns against hers with a private, tiefling-specific affection. Caleb and Fjord stood beside the wall, Nott sat on top of the chest under the window, and Yasha stood against the door. 

Caduceus sat down with his back against the wall and his legs parallel to the bed. Comfortable, he shot a characteristic, calm grin Rowan’s way and nodded to them. “Alright, we’re all here. What would you like to say?”

A bit haltingly, at first, Rowan cast sentence after sentence to hover in the air. It was… harder than they’d expected to explain their history. Especially without a plan. They kept starting and stopping, and then starting at a different place and trying again. After a couple tries, though, they decided enough was enough.

 _I… have three siblings,_ they signed, watching an empty place on the floor instead of looking into anyone’s eyes. _One older, two younger. When the littlest, my sister, was born, my brothers and I were out of the house. We were running around in the fields a few minutes outside of town. A family friend found us and shuttled us home in his cart. When I saw my little sister, all red and screaming but alive and_ healthy, _I… uh… apparently used magic._

“On accident?” Nott burst in.

“It happens, with sorcerers—” Caleb stopped. “ _Es tut mir Leid._ Keep going. Please.”

 _I remembered the magician— Ameile— doing something like this at a festival._ They sent a few sparks into the air, and the group watched with understanding as they burst and started to fizzle out as the lights fell to the ground. Jester clapped as Beau nodded in understanding. _Lotsa the kids liked to follow her around at festivals. She was a nice ladymy parents said she helped out during harvests, even though she wasn’t really from the town. Just lived on the edge of it. So when my parents found out… that I could use magic, and that she was the one I’d sort of learned it from, she became my teacher._

“You mentioned,” Caleb murmured, watching as Jester aimed a wide-eyed, frustrated pout towards him. “ _Ja_ , sorry. No more interruptions.” He gestured sewing his mouth closed and tying it off. Rowan gave him a slight smile.

 _I’d go over to her house on the edge of town. She’d teach me spells, and tell me about components, and show me how to scribe spells. But it didn’t really stick. So we’d do stuff, and she’d ask me to try and do things with magic. Like fixing a tear. Or shooting a rock off a stump._ They shrugged. _It was summer when I learned Ray of Frost. As a birthday present that year, she gave me this box._

They removed the wooden box from their backpack and opened the lid. _She wrote this to me._ They passed it to Beau, who took it with a hint of surprise. But when she scanned the message, she smirked. She knew they were giving away their biggest secret. She passed it on at their bidding, letting the others see it. Rowan waited, watching as everyone inspected the box with interest.

Some with more polite interest than others. Caleb and Fjord, the former versed in the arcane and the latter curious about all sorts of magic, picked through the components. Then they’d look at the inscription, and pause. A small, sad expression would lance over their mouths and they’d pass the box off. Nott reacted a bit more. Her brows furrowed and she turned a hurt expression to Rowan, who looked away. 

And Jester… if she was not a bit sad already— with the vision of Veth Breanatto giving up her loving husband and son to protect them from her goblin form— she was sad then. It was perhaps the saddest she’d been since… since Rowan could remember. It was not often that the happiest member of the Nein let herself be sad for long. She just turned her face into Molly’s shoulder and passed the box back. He nodded for them to continue, running a hand over her blue hair.

 _Later,_ Rowan started up again, _someone came back from the market in the Zadash with a new story. It was old news, they said, but it was new to us. A whole town, from somewhere in the Zemni Fields, had burned down. I… I don’t remember the town’s name. I don’t know if anyone ever told me_

_Everyone was scared. They kept saying 'it started as a house fire.’ That some sparks caught the dry wheat fields and… they said that they had just enough time to run away. Most of them, at least._

From over Rowan’s head, Beau and Nott and Caleb shared a worried look. The goblin shuffled closer to her boy and leaned against his legs. He blinked, looking down at her with a face full of pained neutrality.

 _Rumor was someone’s fire magic had gone out of control. That it couldn’t be contained. That_ magic _couldn’t be contained. That three kids from that town had gone away to the big city to learn magic. They visited home and… two days later the town was just… gone._

_Someone put it together and decided it was them. That they were dangerous. That their magic was dangerous._

_Everyone in town knew_ I _was going to the magician for lessons. Everyone in town thought that, when I was old enough, Mama and Da would have me go to the big city to learn magic. Everyone in town knew I was the only kid with magic._

_People started looking at me funny. They moved away when I walked down the street. My friends stopped talking to me. They told me not to stand too close to them. Their parents said not to stand too close to their houses, their orchards, their fields. It was late autumn, past the harvest. But… they didn’t want me to lose control._

_I can’t even do fire magic, not like Caleb’s. Just sparkles.The little kids who loved to watch_ my _fireworks would just… cry._

_My parents stayed up one night talking. They sounded angry, but not at each other._

_The magician left town without a word a month before… he came. They said he was a doctor who’d come to check up on me, since I was always sick or sniffling or…_ Their fingers started to shake. _They said he’d help me. He put me to sleep. And… and when I woke up I… I didn’t know where I was. I was home but I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think straight. I felt wobbly. Mama found me and put me to bed. She seemed… worried? Sad?_

_I guess that man wasn’t a real doctor. I— I heard Mama and Da talking. He was supposed to take away my magic. But he couldn’t. He lied. It didn’t help. It made me feel worse. Everyone… was still scared of me. Is still scared of me. <\i>_

_“You… mentioned a forest,” Yasha whispered._

_“Did you run away?” Mollymauk asked, putting a gentle hand on their elbow._

_Nodding, Rowan took a deep breath and continued, _The next time I woke up I felt better. I packed up my bag and left._ Their hand trailed against their old bag, still surviving with Jester’s mending help. _Mama was taking care of my baby sister, Da was working at the mill, and my brothers were out playing. Nobody saw me go.__

__I didn’t think anyone in town cared that I had gone._ _

__Ameile found me in the fields. I... stumbled into her, again. She said she’d seen the man come through a different town, talking about what he’d done. And she knew it was me. She knew I wouldn’t last on my own. Especially ‘cause I had a really, really bad fever. Apparently, even though I_ had _felt better, that was also lie.__

__She told me later that I slept for three whole days. And that I didn’t understand where I was, or who_ she _was, or what happened. She carried me to the Cyrengreen Forest, where she’d been hiding. I stayed with her there for a long time. I don’t remember how long. Almost two years, though. Because I met her before winter, and I remember two summers._ _

_They shrugged. _It was nice. She was nice. She took care of me like she was my Mama. I think she felt… sorry? Until one morning__

_Their fingers froze. Molly nodded, asking them to continue. Jester put a hand on their shoulder. _Someone found us. Someone who’d been looking for her, someone who was planning on taking her somewhere. I don’t know. I didn’t really find out who it was.__

_They wiped some tears off their face. _I didn’t really get it. I didn’t understand why it was bad until she explained. But she said we needed to leave, and I needed to leave her. She’d put me in danger. She said they’d go looking for me, too.__

__Ameile..._ Rowan sighed, _Left. She said she was going to Othe. I went the other way towards Zadash.__

__I stopped by the little towns on the way. I didn’t want to stay, in case anyone found out. In case anyone knew someone important was looking for me. Because who looks for a wizard in a forest if not someone important?_ _

__The little towns would send the guards after me when I… started to steal food from their farms or trees. So I ran further and further away. I didn’t know if they would to take me to jail for the stealing or if they’d take me to the ones after Ameile. So I’d run. It felt safer._ _

__After a while, I wandered into Zadash. Big cities are easier to hide in. Nobody noticed another little kid with… sticky fingers._ They looked to Nott. _I hid there for almost a month before the guards started to notice. And then… when I left I met you guys.__

_“Just like that?” Nott whispered._

_Rowan shrugged. _Just like that.__

_“Why _don’t_ you want to go live with my mama?” Jester asked, flopping over so her head landed on their lap. “Don’t you miss having a house? A mama?”_

_“She’s— like, sort of everyone’s mom by now… Like… team mom. Mighty mom.” Jester shrugged her own suggestion away. “Don’t you miss being in one place? Isn’t it… wasn’t it lonely? Don’t you want to just be a kid again?”_

_They seemed almost offended by the thought. _Ameile told me not to stay too long in one place, just in case. I don’t know how long or how far these people will look for me._ They touched the necklace she’d given them. _I don’t want her to get in trouble.__

_Rubbing their forehead, they added, _Maybe I was safe before, when I couldn’t do anything. But now I can. I can do magic again, now. They’ll find me, and they’ll realize I can do magic. They’ll take me away. Forever.__

__Maybe… maybe after the war, nobody will remember me. They’ll all be too busy celebrating that it’s ended. Maybe nobody in town will be scared of me. Maybe it’ll be safe. Maybe..._ Tears poured forth from their eyes as they heaved out a silent, _I do want to go home. But I don’t want my family to die ‘cause I’m dangerous._ They sniffled. _And I’m still… I still don’t know why they let this happen?_ They screwed up their eyes and buried their face in their shirt._

_“I guess... it’s safer to be on the road,” Beau said, climbing down off by the bed to crouch in front of Rowan. “I agree with Ameile. If you keep moving ‘round, they won’t find you.” She put a careful hand out, and patted their knee. “I… I get it.”_

_“Kiddo. Kid, breathe.” Molly sat up and dragged them into his arms. He wrapped his entire body around them, latching onto them, trying to keep them on this plane. Not wherever their mind was going. Not somewhere nobody could follow them._

_Yasha strode forwards, took their head in her hands, and kissed their forehead. “Rowan, breathe.”_

_They tried. They couldn’t, but they tried. Instead, they just cried into his arms, not quite aware. Not quite there. They didn’t notice that Jester joined in the hug, and that Nott climbed onto the bed to pet their hair. They didn’t notice Caduceus stand up with a sad expression. They didn’t notice him move to whisper something to Fjord, who sighed and agreed. They didn’t see the quiet fury that began taking over Yasha’s expression. They didn’t see Caleb start to claw at his forearms before Beau strode over and stopped him._

_They didn’t notice much. But they tried to breathe._

_At some point, as they were wont to do, Rowan cried themselves to sleep. Molly tucked them into the bed, shushing them with a soft voice. He pet their hair back, looking at their teary, torn expression with a sigh. The barbarian shooed the rest of the group out of the room with quiet reassurances. She strode from her quiet space and took him in her arms._

_“You are not at fault,” she said. He spun, giving her a broken expression. With sadness— and not with anger— he glared. Not at Yasha, but at the world._

_“Rowan told you their name a while ago, didn’t they.” He looked over at the monk, a woman who’d grown to be a sister he’d never had._

_“They did— and I didn’t ask them anything else. I… I wish I had. “She shook her head. “No wonder they ran away— they watched us leave them on The Mistake! And the Balleater! And then we talked about giving them up… ” He snuggled his face into her shoulder. “They must’ve thought we’d stopped caring. Must’ve thought we’d had enough of them. Done with them for good.”_

_“And then you all did.” Yasha added. “You left us.”_

_“On accident,” Caleb grumbled._

_“And I am so… _so_ sorry, Yash. We didn’t mean to, you know. We thought you were following along behind us! But… I’m still glad to this day that Rowan didn’t come in with us. They could’ve died in there, Yasha. It was terrifying. We were almost murdered by a blue dragon!”_

_“You did not see them when you all left.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“No. Listen.” She walked him back to the bed and sat him down. She knelt on the floor in front of him. “We were both left behind. Neither of us knew what had happened. We did not know if you all had died.” Molly made to open his mouth and apologize, again, but Yasha quieted him with a finger. “I was sad, yes. I am not used to being the one left behind._

_“Rowan was _distraught_. They were furious. They thought you’d all left them for good. They… they didn’t let go of the Happy Fun Ball until they fell asleep. Crying.” She looked over at them; they looked just the same as that night. “They cried the next day, too, just a bit. Then they wouldn’t sleep, and they wouldn’t eat. They didn’t want to let it go. Just in case there was a sign you all would come back. That you all, I don’t know… That if they let the ball go, they were letting you all go._

_“They stayed up for two _whole_ days before they caught a fever and were unconscious for days. Then you all came back, Jester tapped their head, cured their cold, and that was that. They never told anyone.”_

_“I… I didn’t know.”_

_“Rowan… is good at keeping secrets, it seems. And… I didn’t tell the group because I…” She paused, thinking. “I was also sad. And angry. But mostly sad.”_

_“Yasha.” Molly leaned over and threw his arms around her shoulders. “I promise I’ll never leave you behind again.”_

_She returned the hug. “And I’ll do my best to stay, too. But we must keep the child with us.”_

_“Even if it’s dangerous?”_

_“Even if it’s dangerous,” she said, looking at Nott. The goblin— a halfling forced to change against her wishes— nodded. She could empathize._

_Fjord sighed. “We’ve got to figure out some kind of disguise for them, then. The cloak isn’t going to cut it.”_

_“I’m on it,” Caleb said, twiddling with his coat. “I have an idea. I just need time.”_

_“Well, the walk to the Dynasty looks like it’ll be a long one,” Yasha said. “Work on it there.” The wizard nodded. Just another thing to add to the roster of spells he wanted to test. Looking to Nott, he wondered if his plans for her would work on the kid, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mother of all big lore dumps! For the few people who commented before, asking what Rowan's story was waaaay back in chapter 2 or 3... here you are. I hope your patience was well-rewarded. And for those of you interested in possibilities with a certain wizard... Just you wait. >:)
> 
> As with all things, please let me know what you think! Drop a comment! Leave me a note! I'm always checking in and seeing if there's anything new going on. And seeing your messages...? It warms my heart. And gives me quite the boost. I couldn't do this without you, dear reader. And thank you for reading so much of my story. I think we're almost to 100k words. 
> 
> Honestly, I cannot say that I could've done this without having people actually paying attention to my self-indulgent fic. So thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little fic! It's been my hope to see this idea through for quite some time now. Truth be told, I've written probably ten different renditions of this story, each one starting and ending at a different time. Or in a different universe. Some with magic, some without. But to me, it would not be the Nein- or the kid- if there wasn't some magic thrown in.
> 
> One of these days, I'll be proud enough to say that I've caught up to canon. That's probably well AFTER the point when canon ends, but I've guesstimated we've got a few more years of that... And I'm not exactly winning any prizes for speed writing, now am I? I try, and have the usual excuses (job, attempting to have a life, a DnD campaign, game I'm making from scratch that's DnD adjacent, trying to sleep... You know. The usual.)


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